


Every Cliche Ever

by lost_stickie_note



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: #stickieallover, AO3 needs more Zhangjun smut, Angst, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, The Fanfic Trinity: Fluff Angst and Smut, Zhangjing being an idiot sometimes, Zhangjun endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-08-22 05:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16591526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/lost_stickie_note
Summary: Zhangjing has been in love with Yanjun for as long as he can remember.Sometimes he wonders if Yanjun will ever feel the same way.A slow burn Zhangjun fic in which Zhangjing finds out what it truly means to love someone for an eternity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long note as always.
> 
> Hi loves! Here is my next long Zhangjun fic, and this fic is truly my favorite idea I've had for a long time. I hope everyone enjoys and is ready to come on a journey with me. :) It's going to be pretty slow burn, just a warning. Also, I am planning on updating tags as chapters come out because I don't want to include too many spoilers. Ooooof, and apologies but chapters for this one will be around 3k words each because I don't think I can sustain really long chapters atm.
> 
> BUT as some of you may know, this fic is based on a prompt I posted a long time ago to Twitter:
> 
> "He hated her. Her perfectly styled hair, a tendril coming undone, framing her face. Sharp collarbones that peeked out, hinting. All the way down to her thin-but-toned legs to the bedazzled Louboutins. And he'd never stop hating her the instant she told Yanjun 'I do'."
> 
> Aka there will be some angst of course.
> 
> It might take a while to get through this fic, but I'm trying hard to get it done because I'm in love with the idea in my head. I'm really excited about this fic, and I hope you all will like it too.
> 
> Shameless plug for all my other works~~
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

Zhangjing has been in love with Yanjun for as long as he can remember.

 

He first meets Yanjun when he's six and the other boy is still five. The younger boy just barely makes the age cut-off for his class, and he is the youngest in the group, the baby. Zhangjing loves school immediately, and on the first day, he makes tons of new friends, going back home and rattling off all their names to his mom. His parents laugh when he says he has _so many best friends now_ , but he doesn't know why. In the end, Zhangjing is loud and lovable and knows how to make people like him. It isn't until the second week that he notices the other boy, quietly sitting in the corner away from everyone else, eating alone. And he asks his group of already-best-friends who the boy is, receiving only a whispered warning that  _he's sorta weird and doesn't talk to anyone_. 

 

He tells his mom when he gets home, about the weird boy who sits alone, proud of all the new information he finds out. This time his parents don't laugh, and his mom scolds him for calling the boy mean names, for saying that he's  _weird_. And he tries to explain that it isn't  _him_ that is saying these things, and it's  _everyone else at lunchtime_ , but they decide to take away TV privileges anyway. It's so unfair, and Zhangjing goes to school the next day, planning on telling the other boy off, how it's unfair that his parents punished him for something  _that he didn't even do._

 

Zhangjing marches straight up to the boy sitting alone on the bench during lunchtime, all ready for a fight. When he gets closer though, the other boy looks up at him, his cheeks puffed out, mouth full of food. And Yanjun is staring at him with wonder-struck eyes. The younger boy looks so cute, his front baby teeth slightly bigger than the rest, and Zhangjing is reminded of his stuffed bunny on his bed, the one he hugs to sleep every night. It makes him pause. And all he can remember is his mom yelling at him last night, and how he doesn't want to TV privileges to be taken away today too. So he remembers his manners and sticks out his hand like his parents taught him, still sticky with the juice he spilled during snacktime. 

 

"My name is You Zhangjing, and you got me in trouble yesterday." He declares.

 

The other boy doesn't say anything for so long that Zhangjing starts to hop from foot to foot, not able to stay still. Finally, he blurts something out. "My mommy says it's good manners to introduce yourself and shake hands with everyone. But you're not saying anything, and you're supposed to introduce yourself back so that I can yell at you for getting me in trouble." The words tumble out of his mouth so fast, like they're trying to outrun his thoughts, and Zhangjing doesn't even know if the other boy hears what he says.

 

Finally, Yanjun speaks. "You're the boy everyone likes." And the other boy is still staring at him in awe, like he can't believe  _the most popular boy_ in class wants to talk to him.

 

Zhangjing doesn't know what to say back, but he feels proud of himself, proud that the other boy is looking at him like this. And after that, he doesn't really want to yell at the other boy anymore, but Yanjun still isn't saying anything and just stares at him. So Zhangjing walks away and rejoins his group of best friends instead. But for the rest of lunch, Zhangjing sneaks glances at the younger boy, by himself. And when he tells his parents about his day, how he was polite to Yanjun and didn't yell at him,  _even though he got me in trouble_ , they smile at each other and tell him that he can watch TV again. So Zhangjing happily spends the rest of his afternoon with his cartoons, narrating the whole show to Mr. Bunny, who's his favorite stuffed animal. 

 

And every time he talks to Mr. Bunny, he's reminded of Yanjun, the boy's two front teeth winking back at him.

 

The rest of the week, he watches Yanjun during lunchtime, not paying attention to anything his friends are saying. And each day, the younger boy sits in the same spot, eating alone. Finally, at the end of the week, Zhangjing can't take it anymore. All his energy from the week is about to spill out of him. He bounces up to the younger boy who looks up at him with the widest eyes, and he makes another one of his not-so-subtle declarations, attracting attention from everyone else in the yard. "You're my  _only_ best friend from now on."

 

It's the first time he really understands what a best friend is.

\---

His mom is delighted when he brings Yanjun home one day. She asks who the other boy is, and Zhangjing proudly declares that Yanjun is his  _only_ best friend now, making the younger boy go red in the face. Yanjun looks like he's about to explode, and Zhangjing can't help but laugh, so hard that he has tears in his eyes and he's holding his sides because they hurt so much. His mom smiles kindly at the younger boy and hands him a cookie, lightly scolding Zhangjing to  _stop laughing, you're making Yanjun embarrassed._ The younger boy stuffs the cookie into his mouth, chomping hard and glaring at him. He apologizes after he stops laughing and pats the shorter boy on the top of his head. "It's okay, Junnie, you're still my only best friend."

 

Junnie is his new nickname for the younger boy, something he had thought of the night before. He had thought it was cute, and it rolled off his tongue nicely, a name that felt nice to say. He had run straight down to the kitchen to tell his mom, excited about his bright idea. And his mom was excited as well, patting him on the head as he yelled it over and over again at the top of his lungs. "Isn't it just  _GREAT_?" He had fallen asleep with thoughts of the other boy in his head, imagining how the younger boy's face would look when he told him. 

 

Zhangjing decides right then and there that he enjoys seeing Yanjun's cheeks go aflame, a deep red that just makes his eyes look even bigger and rounder.

 

The image of  _this_ Yanjun is burned into his mind forever, so much so that he can still remember the position of every single cookie crumb stuck to the other boy's face.

\---

"Mom, what's love?" Zhangjing is sitting at the table while his mom is making dinner, making a  _click, click, click_ sound as she chops vegetables for the soup.

 

His mom turns around to look at him in surprise. "Why do you want to know what love is?" Zhangjing is just six, but he is already curious about the world, wanting to know about everything and anything around him. "Our teacher says she loves her pet dog a lot, and I hear you and Daddy say it to each other all the time. But what does it  _mean_?"

 

She comes over to sit in the seat next to him, taking one of his crayons and helping him color in the picture he's working on. The coloring page is full of different flowers in a meadow, and Zhangjing is busy filling in the petals with his favorite purple crayon, stubby from overuse. He is trying so hard to concentrate on coloring in the lines that he almost misses what his mom says to him. "Love is when you want to protect someone and make them happy all the time. You never want to see them cry, and you always want to smile around them. When you love someone, you want to be with them forever, and you miss them when they aren't with you. Does this make sense Zhangjing?"

 

He sticks out his tongue as he thinks, finished filling in the flower with purple. And then he picks up the yellow crayon, wanting to color in the sun. The bold declaration comes out with utter conviction, making his mom laugh. "Yeah, so that means I love Yanjun!"

 

Zhangjing doesn't understand why his mom is laughing so much.

 

"Yes sweetie, in a way, you do love Yanjun." She ruffles his hair fondly before returning to the vegetables.

 

And he thinks about it for the rest of the day, repeating the thought in his head so he won't forget to tell Yanjun the next day about his revelation. The next day when he finds the younger boy on the playground, he repeats back everything his mom had told him. "...and that's why I love you. Because I want to protect you and make you happy and..." Zhangjing bites his bottom lip, trying desperately to remember everything else his mom had told him yesterday. He is disappointed when he can't remember all the words, having spent so much time practicing the speech in his head. He shakes his head at the younger boy. "Never mind. I can't remember all of it. But the important part is that I love you, Junnie."

 

The younger boy is a bit red in the face again, and Zhangjing feels his own face getting red when Yanjun responds, eyes shining and a full dazzling smile. "I love you too, Zhangjing."

 

And after that, he is convinced that Yanjun is what love means.

\---

It's the younger boy that brings up marriage first.

 

They have been best friends for almost a year already, spending every day after school with each other. The friendship delights their parents to no end, who quickly become acquainted with each other, loving that they can now carpool and the work of shipping around their children is divided in half. So now, the two of them have organized playdates, with their parents talking in the kitchen while they romp about the house. Today, Yanjun is really, really excited to tell him something, and he's speaking a mile a minute. "Zhangjing, we're going to get married. You can be my bride, and I'm gonna be the groom. And your mom will be there. And your dad. And my mom. And my dad. And all our friends. And we're going to say 'I do' in front of eveeeeeeryone in a huge church. And there's going to be flowers and cake and presents!" The younger boy is stretch his arms out as far as they will go when he says the word 'everyone'. 

 

Zhangjing wrinkles his nose. "Why would we get married, Junnie?"

 

Yanjun is staring at him all wide-eyed and excited. "Because my mom said people get married when they love each other lots and lots and lots and want to spend the rest of their lives together." The younger boy looks at him shyly now. "And we love each other lots right? And we want to be together forever?"

 

He stares at Yanjun, indignant. "Of course we love each other lots, and  _of course_ , I want to be together forever. You're my best friend, Junnie."

 

The younger boy is smiling back at him, gap toothed from recently losing one of his front teeth. And Zhangjing can see the new one starting to grow in, just a small hint of white peeking out. "Forever and ever?"

 

Zhangjing nods at his friend resolutely. "Yes, forever and ever."

 

And now Yanjun is bouncing with excitement again, and he's never really seen the younger boy look quite so animated. "THEN LET'S GET MARRIED NOW!" The younger boy runs off, and he is so surprised by how fast Yanjun leaves that he almost loses sight of the other boy as he rounds a corner. Now they're going up the stairs, and Zhangjing has no idea where Yanjun is taking him. It turns out that the younger boy is heading into his parents' bedroom, diving on to the floor to pull out a huge box from underneath the bed. "My mommy showed me this yesterday. All the pictures from when she got married to daddy are in here, and a couple other things."

 

Yanjun is finally done digging through the box, and he holds up two items triumphantly. Zhangjing recognizes the black bowtie in the younger boy's left hand, but he doesn't know what the white thing is. He points to the object in question and asks. "What's that?"

 

The other boy is looking more and more excited. "Mommy says it's called a veil. You're supposed to wear it when you get married, and it goes on top of your head, like this." Yanjun puts the bowtie around his own neck and places the veil on top of his head, and the top part is too big, falling down past his ears. Then the younger boy takes his hand, and Zhangjing is now being dragged back downstairs. "Come oooon, Zhangjing! Let's go show mommy and daddy." The stupid thing almost falls off his head as Yanjun is pulling at his other hand, but they make it to the kitchen quickly, with Yanjun slightly out of breath.

 

All four adults turn to look at them when they walk in, just as Yanjun confidently states, "Me and Zhangjing are going to get married!"

 

It is deathly silent for a few seconds. 

 

Then both their moms burst into 'awww' and 'ooooh' while their dads look on with amusement. His mom kneels down so that she is at their height more or less. "Yanjun, why do you want to get married with Zhangjing?"

 

"Because he's my best friend, and, and, and I love him sooooo much, and we're going to be together forever and ever and ever!"

 

Their parents start clapping, and now everyone is smiling. And even though the veil is annoying him because it's making his ears itch, Zhangjing starts smiling too at how happy Yanjun looks. Yanjun's mom shrieks. "Wait, we have to get a picture of this! It's so adorable, and they'll be able to see it when they get older too." And Yanjun's dad goes off to hunt down their camera, lost somewhere in the house. All of a sudden, their parents are telling them to stand closer together so they can take the picture, and Zhangjing obediently holds Yanjun's hand when his mom tells him to.

 

The flash goes off, and their parents are snapping too many pictures now, forever documenting the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> CuriousCat: [Requests/Prompts/Random Chat](https://curiouscat.me/loststickienote)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Zhangjun feels. Happy to be working on a multi-chaptered fic again. Fluffy fluff fluff? :) Will try to update with the next chapter once I get on break~~ Enjoy!
> 
> Side note: Planning on doing a whole bunch of releases in January. May or may not have an additional Christmas release, undecided mostly due to my schedule and limited time.
> 
> Shameless plug for all my other works~~
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

Yanjun is starting to get taller now, and it annoys Zhangjing to pieces. He always imagined that their gap in height would stay the same forever so that he can always angle his face downwards and pat the younger boy on the top of his head. But now the other boy is maybe even just  _slightly_  taller than him even though he cheats every time they measure themselves back to back, with Zhangjing standing on his tip toes to gain an advantage.

 

"See, I'm still taller!" Zhangjing declares, and the younger boy just smiles back at him.

 

"Of course you are, Zhangjing." He's pleased at he response, even though he has a sneaking suspicion that the younger boy is just humoring him by lying.

 

After all, they had started seventh grade, and all of a sudden, everyone wanted to pick Yanjun first for sports. The younger boy had grown up quickly in the last few years, and he had watched as Yanjun discovered that he was naturally athletic. But the younger boy was still slightly shy, uncomfortable with all the extra attention he was receiving from everyone after joining the school's basketball team. And Yanjun had balked at the thought of finding new friends when he asked, stating firmly that  _you're the only friend I need._

 

Remembering makes Zhangjing happy.

 

Because truth be told, he doesn't really want to share Yanjun with anyone else. 

 

And no one else knows Yanjun like he does.

 

He's the only one that sees the younger boy sneaking off to the library during lunchtime, devouring books like they are food to be eaten. And Yanjun hides in the corner of the library, past all the musty shelves, deep into the reference section where no one ever goes. Because there's a table there, small, meant for two or maybe three people, hidden in the back away from everyone's view. Yanjun screams out loud the first time he finds him there, startled when he chirps a bright, "Hi, Yanjun! Whatcha doing?" The scream attracts the attention of the grumpy librarian shelving reference books, who shushes them angrily. 

 

Zhangjing lowers his voice to a whisper. "What are you reading today?"

 

The younger boy glances at him furtively. "How did you even find me here?"

 

And he winks at Yanjun. "Because I'm magic."

 

He is far too embarrassed to tell the younger boy that he had tried to find Yanjun during lunchtime and had purposely stalked him down, making a beeline to the younger boy's classroom as soon as his own class was finished. The first few times he had followed Yanjun, he couldn't keep up with the other boy's longer limbs, losing him in the crowd of people. Zhangjing finally spots the younger boy after weeks of trying, and when he finds Yanjun's secret spot, he can't gather enough courage to go and talk to him. He thought the younger boy told him everything, and he has to admit to himself that he's a bit hurt.

 

"Junnie, why didn't you tell me this is where you were going during lunchtime every day?"

 

The younger boy flushes, the red creeping up his neck. And Zhangjing remembers that it's been a long time since he's called Yanjun by his childhood nickname. After growing up further, the younger boy had been embarrassed by the term of endearment, and after noticing, Zhangjing gradually started using it less and less. Now, he only ever called the other boy 'Junnie' sometimes when they were alone, separated from the rest of the world, or when he was upset. Yanjun mutters out a reply under his breath, so soft that Zhangjing can barely hear. "I didn't know if you would understand. And I didn't want everyone to think I'm weird. Like I'm the weirdo in the corner by myself reading books."

 

Zhangjing can feel his heart breaking, and the image of little Yanjun sitting alone in the corner of the schoolyard, eating lunch with his head down flashes through his head. He takes a seat next to Yanjun on the bench, pressing closer so that the younger boy needs to scoot over. He whispers fiercely. "Of course I understand, Junnie. You're my best friend." And the words feel hesitant on the tip of his tongue, escaping his mouth anyway. "I love you." Zhangjing is scared as he looks at the younger boy, not sure if it's still something he can say to his best friend in seventh grade, now that they are older and the word 'love' is still foreign and unexplored. 

 

But Yanjun is looking back at him gratefully, eyes craving the acceptance that Zhangjing readily gives. "Thanks, Zhangjing. I love you too."

 

And the younger boy closes his eyes and rests his head on Zhangjing's shoulder, and all he can feel is his heart beating far too loudly and far too quickly.

 

He knows Yanjun is using the term loosely, saying that he loves Zhangjing as a friend, but still.

 

It's something.

\--- 

"Hurry up, Zhangjing!!" The younger boy is yelling down at him from the top of the hill, beckoning him to move faster and catch up. "If you don't hurry, we're going to be late."

 

He grumbles under his breath, slightly panting from the exertion of the steep slope.  _Not everyone can be as in shape as a star basketball player._ Yanjun had been excited last week, claiming that he found the perfect spot to watch a sunset from. It was his secret spot, a place he had found while wandering around one day looking for a good area to settle down with a book. And apparently, Zhangjing notes dryly, the boy had managed to find  _the most_ out-of-the-way spot. He swears to god that they have been walking for a good hour at this point, and Zhangjing is not quite built to handle all this physical exercise. But he troops on faithfully, following Yanjun until seemingly the end of the earth. 

 

With a puff, he collapses at the top, next to his best friend. "It's just a little further, that grassy area over there."

 

Zhangjing blinks, not sure whether his eyes are deceiving him. The place Yanjun is pointing to looks straight out of a fairytale. There is a huge tree that sits right in the middle of the clearing, its branches sweeping up to touch the sky and out to shield the area directly underneath. And a pond nearby, the water glistening and shiny from where he's standing, the dying light reflecting off the surface. The area is more like a field, and there are wildflowers dotting the green every so often, giving the ground a pop of color.  _How did he even find this place?_  "...and I usually sit under the tree to read." Yanjun is beyond excited to show him everything. 

 

The younger boy runs down the slight slope towards the tree, his arms outstretched, yelling at the top of his lungs. Zhangjing follows, feeling the wind snapping at his cheeks, and he screams so he can know what it feels like. And he's going faster and faster down the hill, and the whole experience feels dizzying, crazy. The slope is steeper than he thinks though, and he's pinwheeling his arms at the bottom, trying to gain his balance back as the slope evens out. Zhangjing can feel himself falling, and he runs right into Yanjun, almost bowling the other boy over. But the younger boy catches him, steadying Zhangjing in his arms. 

 

He looks up, and Yanjun is staring down at him, a half-grin on his face.  _He really is taller than me now._ Zhangjing has the insane urge to kiss the younger boy, who is still wrapping him up in a hug, but he shakes his thoughts away. "Come on, it's almost sunset."

 

And Yanjun unzips the duffel bag he brought along, and brings out a blanket. "My mom said I had to bring it if we were going to stay out here for a while. It gets kind of cold at night." The younger boy pats the grass next to him, already leaning up against the trunk of the tree, legs underneath the blanket. "Sit, Zhangjing."

 

He slips under the blanket next to Yanjun, tucking the edge underneath him so that they're cocooned. Zhangjing squeaks in surprise as the younger boy throws his arm over Zhangjing's shoulder, pulling him closer, tighter up against his body. "It's already starting to get cold." Yanjun whines, slightly shivering already. "Come closer so we can stay warm." 

 

They watch the sunset silently, the sky turning into a palette of deep reds and oranges, mixing in the sky. The world is on fire, and all Zhangjing can feel is the warmth of the boy next to him, holding him close, his fingers lightly brushing his side. And he tucks his head into the crook of Yanjun's shoulder, pressing his cheek up against the younger boy's chest, hoping the moment will last forever. All he can hear is the thumping of Yanjun's heart, beating rhythmically like the sound of a drum echoing in between his ears. Zhangjing thinks everything is perfect. Then the sun itself is slowly descending, getting smaller and smaller until the dot disappears into the distance. And all the colors are draining out of the sky now, deepening into blues and purples, trying to outrun the night. 

 

Zhangjing looks up from his position and stares at the outline of Yanjun's face, barely visible with the little light left. As if he can sense Zhangjing is looking, the younger boy looks down, and all Zhangjing can see is the gleam of the other boy's eyes in the dark. They are murky and dark, with a hint of light dancing within them. "This is the best part." Yanjun points to the field, motioning for Zhangjing to look. 

 

It takes his breath away.

 

Drawn out by the dark, fireflies have started coming out, and the lights start winking at them, darting all around. They dance in the air, flashes of brilliance with no rhyme or reason, and Zhangjing hears the younger boy let out a contented sigh. "This is my favorite part."

 

"Why?"

 

Yanjun's answer is simple, pure. "Because it reminds me that even in darkness, there can always be a spark of light."

 

Zhangjing is still ruminating on the younger boy's answer when they get back to Yanjun's house, gone for far too long. And Yanjun's parents are angry with him for staying out too late and  _dragging poor Zhangjing into it_. After watching the fireflies for a bit longer, they had raced back to the younger boy's house on their bikes, going far too fast, the threat of trouble looming before them. They had grounded Yanjun for a week, taking away tv privileges and going out with friends after school. The two of them had marched up to Yanjun's room, with the younger boy laying out two sleeping bags, saying that he would rather sleep next to Zhangjing on the floor. 

 

"It was totally worth it to show you though." Yanjun tilts his head to look at Zhangjing better from his sleeping bag. "I don't mind being grounded." He pauses with a frown. "But you can't show anyone else though. It's just a place for us."

 

It makes him feel light, happy that the younger boy wants to show him something so special, so personal.

 

And Zhangjing can't fall asleep, he's still so excited. He can hear the younger boy breathing though, and he whispers Yanjun's name in the dark. Yanjun doesn't respond, and he turns his head to look over at the sleeping boy. The moonlight from the window is falling over his face, casting half of the younger boy in light while the other half stays in the shadows. He traces the lines of Yanjun's face with his eyes, desperate to memorize everything about today. 

 

As he's drifting off to sleep, he thinks about the younger boy's words. 

 

_Even in the dark, Yanjun shines._

\---

Frustrated, Zhangjing tries again to reach the note, but his voice comes out too thin, cracking as he struggles. He falls backwards on to his bed, letting out an exasperated sigh. The whole thing comes off a bit melodramatic as he declares, "That's it, my life is over." He has been taking vocal lessons for the past three months after his parents had finally given in to the idea. He liked singing, and he had been begging his parents to send him to actual lessons for a long time now. He hadn't asked again though after he overheard them talking in hushed tones one night about their family's finance troubles. Zhangjing had kept quiet afterwards, not wanting to burden his parents with more problems. But a few months ago, his dad had finally switched to a better job, one that came with a pay raise. He still remembers the look of joy on his parents' faces when they told him at dinner that he could finally get lessons.

 

He looks glumly at the younger boy whose back is against the wall, his nose stuck in another book. "Hmmm?"

 

"Yanjun, you're not even paying attention to what I say." Zhangjing complains.

 

The younger boy doesn't miss a beat, not even looking up to respond. "Yeah I have been. You've been trying and failing to reach that high note for the last hour. Give it up already."

 

_God._

 

Sometimes he just wants to give Yanjun a smack over the head. 

 

Zhangjing raises his hand threatening, but the other boy just rolls his eyes. "You would never actually hit me. And you're never going to reach that note anyway with the way your voice is changing right now. Just change the note."

 

"I can't." He wails hopelessly into his pillow. "My vocal teacher assigned me the part for the upcoming recital, and she expects me to do it."

 

Yanjun finally looks up from his book, his expression stormy. "She shouldn't be making you do something you can't do."

 

"But I  _have_ to."

 

"No, you don't." Yanjun gets up from his spot and starts walking out his room. "Come on."

 

Zhangjing groans.  _What does he want now?_  He follows the younger boy downstairs to his living room where the piano is. And his parents are sitting on the couch, watching television as they walk in. "Let's rearrange your part so you can actually sing it." Yanjun says it so simply and matter-of-fact that Zhangjing doesn't quite know how to respond. The younger boy is looking at him patiently waiting for a response that doesn't come. "Come on, it's worth a shot. Then you can show your vocal teacher tomorrow and see what she says."

 

His mom laughs when he tries to sing the original notes, the ever persistent voice crack still ruining his part. "Sweetie, I think Yanjun is right. Maybe you need to switch your part a little."

 

Zhangjing glares at her in mock anger. "Hey, you're supposed to be on my side."

 

She shrugs, amused. "What can I do when Yanjun is right though?"

 

The younger boy smiles triumphantly. "Thank you, Auntie. I've been trying to tell Zhangjing this for the last  _hour_." The two of them have a laugh together, and Zhangjing feels like he's not in on the joke. Even his dad is smiling slightly, his face hidden behind his hand.

 

_God, even my parents are traitors._

 

They spend the next hour tinkering around on the piano, a painstakingly slow process, though the part they are changing is just a few bars. Yanjun sings along with him, playing with the melody and trying to switch up the notes until they sound right with the rest of the song. His voice weaves in with the younger boy's, and their duet sounds sweet, their voices complementing each other. And the few bars are much easier to sing now, more in the range that his voice can reach.  _I hate that Yanjun was right._ It is hard to admit out loud, especially with the younger boy looking at him with a smirk, an 'I told you so' clearly written across his face. 

 

"Fine, you were right."

 

And now his parents are laughing again.  _Truly traitors._ As if his mom wants to rub more salt in the wound, her next words hit him. "Yanjun, do you want to stay for dinner?"

 

The younger boy nods enthusiastically, never one to turn down food at Zhangjing's house. Every time his mom cooked, Yanjun seemed to inhale his food, always exclaiming how good it is between large mouthfuls. It's no different today, and his dad is telling Yanjun to slow down, that he doesn't have to eat quite so fast. "It's because..." Chew, chew. "It's reeeeeally good." 

 

"So Yanjun, has there been anything interesting going on at school lately?" His mom asks while scooping more food on to the other boy's plate.

 

Yanjun is still chewing vigorously but answers anyway, his mouth gaping open and showing off his food. "Ew, close your mouth, Yanjun."

 

The younger boy swallows his mouthful. "Yeah actually. A girl confessed to me today." He must have had an offended look on his face because Yanjun quickly corrects himself. "I was going to tell you Zhangjing, but I totally forgot until now because we were doing your song thing."

 

His mom smiles at Yanjun. "That's so cute. Are you two going to be boyfriend and girlfriend?"

 

Yanjun shrugs. "I don't know yet."

 

Zhangjing looks down at his lap, trying to hide the blush that is forming. He didn't know that the younger boy was already thinking about having a girlfriend. And the thought makes his head spin and his heart pound. "How about you Zhangjing? Any girl we should know about?"

 

He mumbles a quick 'no', still looking down, afraid at what he might see if he meets Yanjun's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, omg, fluffy fluff. Still really excited about this story even though it's slow going. Itching to get all of this finally written, and now that I'm on winter break, maybe updates will come a bit faster. Hope everyone enjoys! :)
> 
> Shameless plug for all my other works~~
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

Zhangjing's head snaps up immediately upon hearing the other boy's words. "Have you ever kissed anyone?"

 

They are back in his room after dinner, the conversation continuing on after Yanjun brought up the girl. Zhangjing had been happy to move past the topic, not wanting to face the tightness that happened in his chest every time when Yanjun said the word 'girlfriend'. "We're in eighth grade now, and I feel like everyone already had their first kiss." The younger boy is frowning up at the ceiling, splayed out on his bed. "All the guys on my basketball team keep talking about how great it is, but I don't know." Zhangjing can hear the frustration in Yanjun's voice, tinged with a bit of upset.

 

"How about that girl that confessed to you today?" Zhangjing asks in a small voice. He tries to come off as nonchalant as possible, not wanting the younger boy to see the mess going on in his head spill out onto his face. His thoughts are swirling around in his head, making him a bit dizzy, in all honesty. He thinks he knows what it means, when he can't help but smile every time Yanjun turns his way, how his palms get sweaty when the younger boy grabs his hand to drag him somewhere, and his nervousness when Yanjun gets too close. The other day, their teacher had talked about love in class, based off the story they had been reading. She had told them to imagine someone they loved, how they would feel if they were the ones experiencing the plot.

 

Yanjun's face had come to his mind, unbidden and perfect.

 

That's when Zhangjing knew he was in trouble.

 

The younger boy turned on to his stomach in order to look at Zhangjing who's sitting on the ground. He bites his lip, a worried expression on his face. "Zhang Li is the most popular girl in my class. I don't know why she confessed to me actually."

 

Zhangjing gulps, and his voice comes out more nervous than he would have liked. "It's because you're attractive, and you're one of the best players on the basketball team. Doesn't she go to all of your games?"

 

Yanjun knits his eyebrows together, frustration coming out now. "But all she knows about me is that I play basketball." He lets out a dramatic sigh. "Nothing else." Zhangjing feels his heartbeat quicken as the younger boy stares at him, almost as if Yanjun can see right through him, right down to the tingling that runs straight to his fingertips every time Yanjun smiles. "It's not like she knows me like you do."

 

_Nobody knows you like I do._

 

"Besides, I don't want to mess it up." Yanjun looks worried, distressed. "What if she goes around telling everyone I'm a bad kisser? I'll never live it down."

 

Zhangjing stays quiet, letting the younger boy mull over his thoughts. He's found over the years that Yanjun prefers it this way when he has a problem. The younger boy likes to think on his own, bouncing his ideas off Zhangjing to get a better feel for which one will work better. Once Yanjun told him that staring at him helped the thinking process.  _You're quiet and never judgmental. It makes the thoughts flow better._ So when the younger needs him to, he tucks his legs into his chest, wrapping his arms around the front, and just waits patiently for Yanjun to finish. 

 

The younger boy's face lights up. "Wait, how about we practice on each other?" 

 

Zhangjing feels his face go instantly red, eliciting a laugh from Yanjun. "It's perfect. Then we both get our first kiss, and we won't mess it up when we kiss someone else. And it'll be our secret."

 

He feels faint now, and the room is spinning a bit. 

 

"Helloooo?" Yanjun is waving his hand in front of his face. "Earth to Zhangjing. Are you there?" Zhangjing struggles to focus and blinks a few times rapidly. "Wait, what do you want to do exactly?"

 

The younger boy is resolute. "Practice kissing."

 

Zhangjing's mind is blank as the younger boy comes off the bed to shake his arm, pleadingly. "Come oooon. It's just one kiss. Just do me this one favor, and I'll love you forever." Yanjun has his lower lip stuck out in a pout, his cheeks puffed out adorably in a huff. Zhangjing can feel his objections melting away as the younger boy keeps staring at him.

 

He reluctantly gives in, not one to refuse Yanjun anything ever. "Fine, but only  _one time_." The younger boy nods eagerly. 

 

"I'm going to be the boy, and you can be the girl." Zhangjing whines. "Wait, why do I always have to be the girl?" It all seems rather unfair, a role that he was stuck to play for Yanjun since they were little.

 

"Because I want to practice for kissing Zhang Li, and you're shorter, pretty much the perfect height." Yanjun says shrewdly, smirking at him.

 

_Well, I can't really argue with that._

 

Zhangjing sighs. "Okay, fine. Let's get this over with."

 

So they stand up, and Zhangjing realizes that he is indeed the perfect height for Yanjun. The perfect height for the younger boy to lean down and kiss him. And the thought makes his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Awww Zhangjing, you're even blushing for me. How cute." Yanjun's voice is teasing and light, and it doesn't do anything to calm his nerves about kissing his best friend. In fact, it makes Zhangjing's heartbeat go way up, and he can feel the pounding even in his head, making him slightly lightheaded.

 

"Close your eyes." Zhangjing does as the younger boy asks, and he can only see the insides of his eyelids now. It's so quiet and still that he wonders if Yanjun will ever kiss him, and the silence stretches on a bit too long. Just as he's about to speak, he feels the younger boy's hands on his face, cupping his cheeks in his hands. Yanjun's fingertips feel slightly calloused, probably from playing too much basketball, and he almost pulls away, the roughness against his skin a shock. But the younger boy's thumbs are stroking over his cheekbones, and it feels nice, the light touch careful against the warmth of his flushed cheeks. And he's about to ask again, but Yanjun replies.

 

"Keep your eyes closed." So he does, and finally he feels Yanjun coming closer, the breath of the other boy grazing over his lips slightly. It feels hot over his mouth, and Yanjun is so close that Zhangjing can almost feel the other boy's lips even though they aren't touching yet. A tingling feeling is spreading through his body now, and his fingers and toes feel like they've gone numb. Zhangjing is charged with energy, every inch of his skin seemingly on fire from the other boy's touch. Yanjun's lips finally press against his, and he can taste the juice that the younger boy had at dinner, a lingering sweetness of mango. And the other boy has soft lips, softer than he expected, pushing up firmly against his. He feels Yanjun move his hand to the back of his head, the younger boy's fingers digging slightly into his hair, and Yanjun tugs lightly tilting his head up. And the younger boy gently moves his lips to peck his lower lip, a whisper of touch. 

 

A thrill runs through him, and his chest swells with the love he can't seem to hold back anymore. 

 

Then the touch of Yanjun is gone, leaving him pressing up against empty space.

 

Zhangjing opens his eyes to see Yanjun staring down at him, his face unreadable.

 

The younger boy's fingers are still cradling his face, and Zhangjing can feel himself blushing harder.

 

Yanjun laughs. "You taste like the chocolate ice cream from dessert."

 

The moment is broken as the younger boy falls into an uncontrollable laughter, leaving Zhangjing alone staring at him in wonder.

\---

Zhangjing is nervous, fiddling with the hem of his dress shirt that won't seem to stay in place properly, continuously coming untucked each time he pulls his arms above his head. It's twenty minutes before his recital performance starts, with all his vocal teacher's students coming together to put on a show. There is more of a crowd than he expected, with the event taking place in the auditorium of their school. He had been worried last week that no one would come to see their recital, and when he told Yanjun his worries, the other boy had asked him whether he wanted an audience. Zhangjing had answered with a resounding 'of course' and the next day, the other boy had gone around telling everyone about the recital. By the end of the day, the whole school knew that Yanjun was asking people to show up. 

 

_Of course Yanjun would do something this stupid._

 

He peeks out from behind the curtain and swallows anxiously. Practically the whole place is full, and his eyes scan the crowd for the younger boy. He can pick out Yanjun almost immediately, sitting smack dab in the middle of the room, sandwiched between his parents and Zhangjing's parents. The other boy is looking down, oblivious to the group of girls giggling behind him, craning their necks to get a better look. Clearly some of their classmates had shown up solely to gawk at Yanjun, who never showed up at any school events other than his own basketball games.  _It's like seeing a rare bird._

 

"Zhangjing, are you ready?" He turns to see his vocal teacher smiling brightly at him after tapping him on the shoulder. "It's almost your turn to do your solo."

 

He shakes his head, the nerves making him mute. They had already performed some of the group pieces that he was a part of, but the prospect of standing on stage alone in front of what seemed like their entire class is now scaring him silly. "Don't worry, you're going to do great. Five more minutes." Zhangjing takes out his phone to send off a quick text to his best friend. "Why did you have to go and invite our whole grade?" He watches as the dots pop up, indicating that the younger boy is typing back a response. 

 

"Because the whole world deserves to see you shine."

 

A pause and more typing.

 

"You'll do great. Look up, Zhangjing."

 

He glances up, and a shock runs through him as he realizes that Yanjun is staring directly at him, eyes trained on the spot at the edge of the stage where the curtains end, the place where Zhangjing is hiding and peering out. The younger boy raises his hand in a half wave and mouths 'good luck' at him. A calm settles through him, the little nudge of encouragement from Yanjun is all he needs.  _I can do this._

 

Zhangjing grips the microphone so tightly that his knuckles turn white, waiting for the curtain to rise. His phone feels heavy in his pocket, the weight of Yanjun's words burning a hole in his pocket.  _Because the whole world deserves to see you shine._ It's the sweetest thing the younger boy has ever said to him, and the thought makes him feel weightless, like he's floating, filled with a light air that can only be described as pure happiness.  _I can do this._ The curtain slowly comes up, and the lights are brighter than Zhangjing anticipated. He squints, trying to gain his bearing, and the first thing that comes into his vision clearly is the other boy.

 

_Yanjun._

 

The other boy is the only thing he can see in the sea of faces, blending together into a swarm of people. But Yanjun's eyes are trained on his, staring intently, and Zhangjing feels as if the younger boy is only inches away instead of far off into the distance. Long afternoons practicing in his room while Yanjun reads. That's all he can think of, and he's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he misses the cue to start, entering a beat late and stumbling over his first few words. He hears a laugh floating out from somewhere in the audience, and he can feel his face burning, hot with embarrassment. But Yanjun is still staring at him from the crowd, shaking his head slightly as if to say  _ignore them, only focus on me._

 

Zhangjing's voice grows stronger, his confidence increasing the longer he looks at the younger boy. Yanjun makes him feel safe, comfortable, makes him feel like he isn't up on the stage to be judged. No, he's up there because he wants to do something he loves, sometime he's good at.  _Because the whole world deserves to see you shine._ Zhangjing approaches the part they spent time rearranging quickly, his voice riding along the notes that the younger boy had helped him map out, guiding him through the tricky part of the song. He had been nervous bringing the new part to his vocal teacher, but she had been delighted, praising his innovative spirit and admiring his foresight in rearranging the part he couldn't reach. Ever the honest student, he had given Yanjun credit, and his teacher had exclaimed that he needed to bring the younger boy sometime to one of his lessons.

 

Yanjun is looking at him with a satisfied smile gracing his features, the perfect picture of a proud parent as Zhangjing nears the end of the song. He lets the last note quiver gracefully on the tip of his tongue, the sound hovering in the air. There is a perfect silence when the song ends, and all Zhangjing can hear is the pounding of his own heart in his chest. He sees it before the sound starts, the image of Yanjun starting to clap. And then all he can hear is the noise of thunderous applause, with a few whistles mixed in. 

 

The grin spreads over his face as the applause washes over him, and the curtain falls.

 

Zhangjing rushes into the hallway, anxious to find his parents in the crowd of people gathered after the recital is over. He apologizes quickly to someone he bumps shoulders with, the 'sorry' lost to the crowd as the other person has already moved past him. Finally, he spots his parents, standing and chatting with Yanjun's family in a corner. "Mom! Dad!"

 

His parents turn to look and so does Yanjun and his family. "Zhangjing, you did amazing!" Yanjun's mom wraps him up in a hug immediately, showering him with compliments. His mom and dad look on, amused, as they watch Mrs. Lin squeeze all the breath out of his body. "Zhangjing, we're so proud of you." His mom ruffles his hair and kisses the top of his head. "Mrs. Lin is right. You did amazing." Zhangjing can feel the tears starting to form as he looks at his parents, his dad's face shining with pride. He hears Mr. Lin's gruff voice come out. "Yanjun, aren't you going to give it to Zhangjing?"

 

Mrs. Lin releases him from her vise-like grip, and for the first time, Zhangjing notices the younger boy, standing quietly beside his dad. His breath catches in his throat, and he can't find the words to speak.  _Oh my god._

 

Yanjun is holding a bouquet of long stemmed red roses, wrapped in pink paper, tied off at the end with a red ribbon into a bow. Zhangjing feels the flush rising up his neck. The younger boy looks like something out of his dreams, a black blazer thrown loosely over a white t-shirt with black jeans and his slightly scuffed Converse high tops. Yanjun tilts his head, his lips settling into a small smirk that makes Zhangjing's pulse quicken. "Congrats." Yanjun holds the bouquet out for him to take, and Zhangjing can't help but notice how perfect the younger boy's hands are, cradling the flowers gently, his long, slender fingers framed against the pink wrapping paper. And the memory flashes in his head, the memory of Yanjun cupping his cheeks in those hands as he waited for a kiss with his eyes closed.

 

The hard nudge in his side by his mom distracts him from falling deeper into his thoughts. "Zhangjing, stop being rude and accept it."

 

The younger boy doesn't break eye contact as he takes the flowers, and Zhangjing mutters a 'thank you', sure that his face must be as red as the roses by now. 

 

Yanjun nods at him. "You were stunning."

 

And he can't even muster the energy to be embarrassed as the younger boy pulls him into a hug, pulling him in too closely, their bodies pressed up against one another. 

 

All he can think about for the rest of the night until he falls asleep is that Yanjun thinks that he was  _stunning._

\---

 His question seems to startle Yanjun, the younger boy looking up from his book with a surprised expression. "What did you say?"

 

Zhangjine repeats his question, chewing on the end of the pen he is using to outline his school essay. "Did something happen with Zhang Li?" He had been running to class earlier, catching a glimpse of the popular girl surrounded by her group of friends, looking slightly upset. Her eyes had been red, a tell-tale sign that she'd been crying recently, and he had wondered immediately if it had anything to do with Yanjun. The two of them had started dating last week, and Zhangjing had felt a pang of jealousy the first day Yanjun introduced her to him. They held hands, fingers intertwined as they walked to class, with Zhangjing on Yanjun's other side. The girl seemed pleasant enough, but Zhangjing couldn't bring himself to smile at her easily. The guilt had been eating him up on the inside, rationally knowing that there was no real reason to dislike the girl.

 

But he couldn't help but feel the pangs of jealousy each time he saw their fingertips touch.

 

Or when Yanjun smiled down at her.

 

The younger boy shakes his head. "Nothing much. We broke up today."

 

Yanjun still has his nose in his book, and Zhangjing gapes at him, wondering how the other boy is so calm after dropping such big news. "Wait, what? I thought you liked her a lot? What happened? Why didn't you tell me?" The flood of questions makes Yanjun look up finally to stare at him. 

 

"I didn't like her  _that_ much. She was really nice, but we really didn't have anything in common. All she ever wanted to talk about was basketball." Yanjun bites his bottom lip, shrugging. "And then we kissed yesterday, and it wasn't great." The younger boy looks down to continue reading. "So we broke up today."

 

Zhangjing is by his friend's side in an instant, scrambling on to Yanjun's bed and tilting his face upwards to see the other boy's face, blocking his view of his book. "Yanjun, are you okay?" He expects tears or sadness, but he can only see resignation in the younger boy's face. 

 

Yanjun flicks his forehead, a sharp pain. "I'm fine silly. I told you it wasn't that important."

 

He is insistent, wanting to know why. Needing to know Yanjun's reasons, needing to understand. Finally, Yanjun pats his lap, indicating that Zhangjing should lay his head down, so he does, staring up at his friend. Yanjun begins mindlessly playing with his hair, lost in his own thoughts and staring forward, not paying Zhangjing any heed. He waits quietly for the younger boy to start speaking, and it's a long time before Yanjun lets out a small sigh. "It just wasn't really what I expected, I guess. I thought a relationship was supposed to make you happy because everyone wants to be in one. And you do nice things together, like hold hands and kiss and go cheer for each other at things like basketball games." The younger boy pauses, gathering his thoughts. "But maybe it's more than just the relationship part, maybe people are only happy when it's the right person."

 

Zhangjing's chest hurts with the efforts of longing after Yanjun, and he feels it intensely at this moment, the guilt of the last week mixing in, making it difficult to breathe. 

 

_You're my right person._

 

Yanjun looks down at him, his face tinged with a sadness now. "I just didn't feel anything when I kissed her. No butterflies, no heart fluttering, or anything. Nothing. Kind of disappointing actually."

 

And Zhangjing can feel his heart fluttering as the younger boy stares at him, expression unreadable. He knows if he closes his eyes, he'll still be able to see Yanjun's face, every detail already committed to memory, but he can't break his gaze away, falling into the darkness of the other boy's eyes.

 

He yearns to tell Yanjun everything but the words don't come out.

 

_They never do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not smut, but slightly nsfw somewhere towards the end of this chapter.
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone! Wishing everyone lots of good cheer and a great upcoming year filled with happiness. :) I am planning on doing a bunch of fic releases for January as my birthday month present and will update Twitter with some sort of schedule. I will be trying to update this fic at least every two weeks, but it's definitely a slow burn fic, so might take a while to come to a conclusion.
> 
> Enjoy the fluff before all the angst and smut hits. :D
> 
> Shameless plug for all my other works~~
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

Zhangjing scans the cafeteria looking for Yanjun.

 

They had been placed in different classes for the first time, and Zhangjing spent the entire morning keenly missing the other boy's presence. Both of them had been excited to find out their schedules a few weeks, an overwhelming feeling of new beginnings, high school being uncharted territory. That excitement had turned into bitter disappointment quickly though as they looked at their assigned classes together.  _Just one._ The only class he shared with Yanjun was English, his absolute worst subject. He had hoped they would have a few more together or at least an easier one. Zhangjing had groaned with misery as he thought about the amount of effort he would have to spend on actually paying attention to the class, cutting down on the time he and Yanjun usually spent passing notes back and forth. 

 

"It's not so bad." And the words must have sounded lame even to himself because Yanjun is looking at him with a guilty expression marring his features. "Hey look, we have gym together too." The younger boy scans their schedules over again. "At least that's something."

 

"That's barely anything." He whined, watching the dreams of his amazing freshman year crumble before his eyes. "We won't have time to talk while in gym. You'll be too busy making everything look easy while I die from overexertion in the first five minutes of the period." The over-dramatic statement draws a laugh out of the other boy, brightening the atmosphere, and Zhangjing feels pleased with himself. 

 

"Besides, this is your fault anyway. You're the one that wanted to try and test into the upper level courses, and you got into almost every one that you wanted." Zhangjing looks at the other boy, affronted. "Hey, I told you to come and take the placement tests with me too, but you refused to do any of them except for the English one." He shoots Yanjun a dirty look. "And you got into advanced English so you're probably smart enough to place into the others, but you were too lazy to."

 

Heart-stopping.

 

Yanjun runs his hand through his hair, disturbing the messy perfection in the front so that some parts are sticking up, and then gives Zhangjing a heart-stopping look. "Maybe, but I only wanted advanced English." And the younger boy keeps talking, but all Zhangjing can concentrate on is how it would feel to run his fingers through Yanjun's hair while kissing him until they both don't have any more air left to give and their lips become dry from pressing up too long and hard against each other other. Instead, he settles for the only thing he can, reaching up to smooth down the bits that are sticking up.

 

"Your hair is messy, Yanjun."

 

And he admits now that the other boy was right. It isn't all bad. In fact, his morning had gone quite well, spectacularly so. He had managed to answer a particularly difficult math problem correctly on the board, shocking himself in the process. The teacher had nodded at him encouragingly as he arrived at the answer, hesitantly circling the end result with a ring of white chalk. He could feel his face burning as he walked back to his seat, pleased, and when he sat down, the boy seated next to him had leaned towards him, whispering a 'good job'. Zhangjing made a snap decision, ripping off the corner from the last page in his notebook.  _Thanks! My name is You Zhangjing._ He crumpled up the message, and carefully took aim, tossing lightly so that the balled-up scrap of paper landed on other boy's desk. 

 

Zhangjing watched as the other boy opened it up, flattened the paper out, and pushed his circular glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose before starting to read the message. And then the other boy proceeded to scribble down a response before balling up the message again to give back.  _My name is Lin Chaoze._ The same last name as Yanjun. It almost felt like fate. And Zhangjing resolved to make Chaoze his newest friend.

 

He finally catches sight of the taller boy, his friend standing in the food line towards the end, and Zhangjing swiftly makes his way over, excited about seeing the other boy for the first time in the day. As he nears, he catches the tail end of a conversation, seemingly coming from the boy standing behind Yanjun in line. "...and then, he just laughed and spit water all over me. I mean, I know I'm funny, but that was so uncalled for." This new boy turns slightly, and Zhangjing wonders who he is, the boy puffing out his cheeks into a pout. "I didn't even know him!" 

 

Zhangjing's first instinct is wanting to poke his cheeks. The boy suddenly breaks out into a bright smile when he sees Zhangjing, and he can feel the corners of his own mouth turn up automatically in response.

 

_Oh, he's cute._

 

But then the other boy opens his mouth, and Zhangjing is assaulted by the barrage of words that come spilling out. "Oh, Yanjun! Is this the friend that you were talking about in class earlier? The one that you grew up with? And the one that you said we'd meet up with at lunch? He is so tiny and cute." And Zhangjing almost recoils in horror as the boy takes both hands and pinches his cheeks without taking even a second to stop talking. "Ooo, his cheeks are so squishy too. By the way, my name is Lu Dinghao, and I got assigned to be Yanjun's lab partner in science class, so I guess I'll be seeing a lot of you too. Since you hang out with him, and I need to pretty much be glued to his side for this whole lab thing. I absolutely  _suck_ at science, and I'm going to need a lot of help from Yanjun."

 

_Does he ever breathe?_

 

And he gives a sidelong glance in Yanjun's direction, and Zhangjing can't help but laugh out loud at the expression on his face. Yanjun looks like he wants nothing more than for Dinghao to shut up, shooting laser beams out of his eyes in a fixed glare that Dinghao doesn't seem to notice at all. "So yeah, I hope we all get along with each other!" Dinghao gives him a curious look. "What are you laughing about?"

 

Zhangjing shakes his head and gives Yanjun a hopeless look when he sees the younger boy mouthing 'save me' at him. "Nothing, I'm not laughing at anything in particular. I'm You Zhangjing, and you should come sit with us for lunch." The expression on Yanjun's face is priceless, and Zhangjing stores the image in his head for a rainy day. It's a mix of outrage, exasperation, and despair, Yanjun's mouth set into a half grimace, half scowl, his eyebrows drawing together, and two pinpricks of color rising in his cheeks. And he wants to run his thumb over the wrinkle forming as Yanjun glares, the same one that appears when the other boy thinks too hard or becomes worried.

 

_He's still handsome when he's angry._

 

"Oh, and I told another person that he could eat with us too." Zhangjing adds, almost forgetting about the boy he had met earlier in his moment of fascination with Dinghao's introduction. "His name is Lin Chaoze. I told him we'd save him a seat."

 

He spends the rest of the lunch period laughing with the other three boys, basking in the warmth of new friends. And Zhangjing watches carefully for Yanjun because he knows the other boy, knows that it's hard for him to let his guard down around new people.  _There is a small part of me that believes I'll always be sitting on the outside._ Yanjun had told him a few weeks ago when they were lying on the floor of his room, bored out of their minds. Zhangjing stayed quiet, not knowing how to respond when the other boy voiced his thoughts. So he had chosen not to say anything, waiting for Yanjun to break the silence first. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just not meant to make any more friends besides you, Zhangjing." 

 

Zhangjing had felt his chest tighten with sadness, and he reached out for the other boy's hand, grasping until he found it. They spent the rest of the time before bed staying silent, and after a moment's hesitation, Zhangjing had crawled into Yanjun's bed at night instead of into his sleeping bag. The moment felt awkward, foreign, as they hadn't slept in the same bed for a long time, not since they were kids. And he wasn't sure what to do except for wrap the younger boy in his arms, trying to hug the worry away. But Yanjun seemed to accept his embrace, and Zhangjing didn't dare close his eyes until he could hear Yanjun's breathing slow into a deep sleep.

 

Yanjun is trying hard today, and he knows that the other two boys can't see it, doesn't see the moments when Yanjun slips, his face not quite succeeding at arranging into the easy smile he likes to put on in front of others, the facade that he uses to keep everyone a few steps back. And Zhangjing can see it in the other boy's eyes sometimes, a darkness lurking just under the surface, an uncertainty that betrays his confident image. Zhangjing sees it now, and he lightly nudges Yanjun under the table with his foot to bring him back, at which he gets a grateful smile in response. 

 

And he is reassured as the conversation goes on longer, seeing the tightness in the other boy's shoulders fade away, his mouth curving more into the small half-smile that Zhangjing associated with Yanjun's true self. 

 

_He's come a long way._

\---

Zhangjing grumbles, leaning down to tie his shoelaces, the strings feeling clumsy in his hands while being pulled into a messy bow. He’s already sweaty and gross, and only half the period had passed so far. He reaches up to push the hair out of his eyes, his gaze moving across the room to find Yanjun easily. Cheers break out as the other boy makes another basket, his coming up in perfect shooting form, the ball sailing off his fingertips with the ease of years of practice. “Why is he so goddamn perfect?”

 

Chaoze laughs from beside him, his nose scrunching up in amusement. “Why? Do you want to also be a star basketball player too?”

 

Zhangjing punches his friend’s arm, whining. “No, but it would be nice if I had any coordination whatsoever for basketball so I at least don’t look like a bumbling idiot in front of Yanjun.”

 

Chaoze grins at him. “Well, you’ve been a bumbling idiot for this long, and he hasn’t stopped being your friend, so maybe he just likes bumbling idiots.”

 

He glares at the other boy, raising his hand in mock outrage.

 

“…And since he’s stuck around, you know, you could always tell him about the big fat crush you have on him.” Chaoze shoots him a pointed look.

 

Zhangjing sputters indignantly. “I don’t-“ And he can feel his body being a traitor, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment at the markedly true statement. “It’s not like that…” But his protests meet only empty air as the other boy just laughs and runs back on to the court. More cheers. His eyes move back to catch sight of Yanjun again, surrounded by a group of classmates congratulating him. And Zhangjing weakly smiles back at the other boy when Yanjun gives him a small wave.

 

He sighs as he makes his way back on to the court, attempting to not get distracted by Yanjun while doing warm-up laps around the gym. But he can’t help that his gaze always searches out for the other boy as he runs his laps, circling, orbiting Yanjun as if the other boy is the center of his world.

 

_And maybe he is._

 

An hour later, and Zhangjing is fully spent, having used his time trying too hard, knowing that Yanjun might be watching. And for all his efforts, he had been rewarded with a few bruises, high fives, and another smile from Yanjun. “God, I feel gross.” Chaoze just laughs. “That’s what the showers are for.” The smaller boy scurries away quickly before Zhangjing can reply. “I’ll see you in math later.”

 

He makes his way towards the back of the locker room, lost in his thoughts. _I have that paper to work on that’s due tomorrow, and then an exam on Thursday._ And suddenly, he’s pressed up against something wet, no, _someone wet._ Zhangjing yelps in surprise backs up quickly, his feet not moving nearly fast enough for his liking.

 

The laugh is familiar.

 

_Oh no._

He’s almost too scared to peek, but he turns his eyes upward anyway, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. _Please God no._ But God has definitely not heard his prayers because it’s Yanjun staring down at him, a bemused expression on his face, an eyebrow raised in amusement, his mouth curved in a little smirk. “You’re so clumsy, Zhangjing.” And Zhangjing wants to die as the other boy ruffles his hair fondly, still slicked with sweat. Yanjun is still talking, but he’s not hearing anything.

 

Because Yanjun is half naked, only a towel wrapped around his waist, body still slightly wet from the shower.

 

_I’ve imagined this so many times in my head._

Zhangjing traces the curves of Yanjun with his eyes, slowly running his gaze over the other boy, starting from his neck. And the urge to kiss Yanjun, run his lips in the crevice between the boy’s collarbones and the soft skin of Yanjun’s neck, rises up in him, threatening to take his breath away. Zhangjing can feel the beginnings of inappropriate thoughts forming as he rakes his gaze over Yanjun’s chest, imagining what it would feel like to rest his head against the other boy, falling asleep in his bed. His breath involuntarily hitches as he catches the outline of Yanjun’s abs out of the corner of his eye, the little perfect furrows, defined, the ripple of muscle underneath moving as Yanjun breathes in and out. And Zhangjing gulps nervously upon seeing the knot of the towel around the other boy’s waist, the expanse of skin underneath Yanjun’s belly button stretching seemingly forever, tantalizing ending at the top edge of the towel, where…

 

“Zhangjing, are you okay?” Yanjun’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and Zhangjing becomes aware that maybe he’s staring just _a bit too long_. The embarrassment rushes through him, and he can’t figure out where to look, too afraid to look Yanjun in the eye and too self-conscious to continue looking at the other boy’s body.

 

_No, because you look perfect, and I’m just your awkward best friend who wants to be your boyfriend._

“Uhhh, no, I’m fine.” Zhangjing mumbles, eyes cast downwards. “Just, uh, need to get to the shower.”

 

“Meet me in the library after school?” He doesn’t respond to Yanjun’s question, quickly sidestepping the other boy while trying to avoid eye contact.

 

All Zhangjing can think about as he showers is that perfectly knotted towel, resting right under the curve of Yanjun’s hip bones, and what it would feel like to touch heaven.

\---

When Zhangjing looks up, Yanjun is frowning at him. “Why didn’t you wait for me after class? We were both going to the library anyway.”

 

And Zhangjing doesn’t know how to tell the other boy, tell Yanjun that he’s been in love with him since the eighth grade, and maybe, just maybe everything is starting to fall apart in his head and he’s panicking. So he keeps his mouth shut, his heart clamped tightly, and shakes his head mutely at his best friend.

 

Yanjun huffs at him. “Okay, fine, don’t tell me. But next time, the least you could do is wait for me since I’m the one offering to tutor you in English.”

 

Zhangjing nods, voice apologetic. “I’m sorry. I will next time.”

 

The younger boy’s expression softens upon hearing his apologetic tone, running his hand through his hair messily. “It’s fine. Let’s just get started because I really don’t want you to end up failing this class.”

 

Zhangjing puts his head down on the desk in a show of exasperation, wailing. “Don’t remind me. I didn’t even get a _passing_ grade on our last exam.” He turns his head to peek out at Yanjun who’s already sitting down, papers and highlighters strewn across the table. “What did you get?”

 

Yanjun hums softly as he jots down a note. “A 95%.”

 

The other boy pays no attention as Zhangjing glares at him, and Zhangjing gives up, instead craning his head over to look at what Yanjun is doing. “What’s that?”

 

“Your essay due on Friday. I’m going over it first, and then you can work on fixing it afterwards. So shush. I’m trying to concentrate.”

 

Zhangjing watches the other boy intently as he works. This Yanjun is the one he likes best, the boy that works hard to achieve perfection. _He’s most attractive like this._ And he studies the younger boy’s side profile, the gentle slope of Yanjun’s nose, the sharpness of the other boy’s cheekbones, the way Yanjun’s lips purse when he’s concentrating, the small nibble on his lower lip when he’s frustrated, and the crook of Yanjun’s perfect neck as his head tilts while working. _Even the sun loves Yanjun._ The light filters through the window at the perfect angle, casting shadows from the bookcases surrounding them, but managing to hit Yanjun so that there seems to be a small halo of light sitting atop the younger boy’s head. And Zhangjing is so busy studying Yanjun that he misses the question.

 

“Hello? Zhangjing?”

 

Zhangjing snaps out of his trance and shakes his head, focusing on the younger boy’s face which appears to be punctuated with traces of annoyance. “Come on, I’m giving up practice time for basketball to help you, Zhangjing. Pay attention.” He shoots Yanjun another apologetic look. _Get it together, Zhangjing._ He obediently takes the marked-up essay that Yanjun hands back to him, and with horror, he realizes that there is far too much red on the page. In fact, at this point, there is more red than black, the corrections littering almost every line.

 

“Oh, God, I’m really going to fail this class.”

 

“No, you’re not. I won’t let that happen.”

 

Zhangjing nearly falls off his seat when he hears Yanjun whispering in his ear, the younger boy’s breath hot against his earlobe. And he needs to will himself to stay still for the rest of his afternoon as the younger boy continues to speak the same way to point out different ways that he can improve his essay, his hand coming up to carelessly grab the pen from Zhangjing when needed. Zhangjing feels a jolt of electricity between them each time it happens, and he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if Yanjun would instead whisper sweet nothings to him, their fingers brushing in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW warning. :) Right at the beginning of the chapter; you've been warned.
> 
> Smells like teenage angst and pining coming. ;) I attempted to be funny in this chapter, perhaps. I miss Zhangjun together. T.T
> 
> BTW, for anyone who cares about Zhangjing, I will be modding a Zhangjing fic fest for his birthday, which will begin prompt submits sometime in between February/March. Just wanted to start mentioning it so that people would have it on their radar and we get lots of prompt ideas. ♡ When stuff gets moving, will include links somewhere for people to find. :)
> 
> Shameless plug for 'Winner Winner Chicken Dinner' aka my purest Zhangjun fluff in a while.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

Zhangjing stares at the screen, his mouth gaping, his body breaking out into a cold sweat, his left hand still grasping his cock firmly which is rapidly getting hard. He takes another long, hard look, trying to figure out whether his mind is playing tricks on him. After a few moments, his rapid breathing slows somewhat. _Ah, I’m going crazy._ Because he’s been browsing through all the videos on the front page of ‘Most Watched’, and he almost has a mini-heart attack when the thumbnail pops up. _Lin Yanjun._ The boy looks like Yanjun in the thumbnail, his mouth parted open in ecstasy in what Zhangjing can only assume is mid-orgasm. And this image merges with the one he already has of Yanjun, his beautiful best friend in the locker room after gym, his top exposed, his eyes wandering further down to that knot tied at the waist.

 

He clicks on the video without thinking.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t know why he feels so nervous. After all, the boy in the video isn’t _really_ Yanjun even though he bears a striking resemblance to the younger boy. He watches, entranced, as the two boys on screen begin kissing, their tongues darting into each other’s mouths, pink and pretty wrapped around each other. And he slowly begins to stroke himself as he watches, watches and imagines, his hand moving up and down in a slow rhythm. Zhangjing can _see_ Yanjun in his head, blushing as the look-a-like starts stripping off the other boy’s clothes, the sound of panting coming through his ear buds. He closes his eyes and imagines that he’s the other boy, squirming around as the look-alike wraps his mouth around the other boy’s cock on screen.

 

The thought of Yanjun’s mouth makes his breaths get ragged and short, a tightening in his groin.

 

Zhangjing groans when he opens his eyes again, hearing an enticing whimper in his ears, and he moves his hand faster watching the Yanjun look-alike thrust into the other boy from behind. And he feels the pressure slowly building, the idea of Yanjun filling him so completely overriding thoughts of anything else.

 

“Zhangjing, honey?”

 

The voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and Zhangjing whips around hurriedly in horror, all the blood draining from his face. His mom is standing in the doorway, a slightly dazed expression on her face, seemingly frozen to the spot. And he doesn’t know whether to hide under the covers of his bed that seems miles further than three feet away or attempt to run out of the room, out of the house. _Anywhere but here._

 

Too bad he can’t feel his legs to move them.

 

His voice thankfully is still working though, and he hears the words as if they are coming from a far away place, shrill and abnormally high-pitched. “Oh my god, Mom, get out. Get out of my room. Get OUT.” The door to his room slams shut immediately, and Zhangjing feels the cold dread wash over him, dousing him with a mix of reality and horror. _This can’t be happening._ He had always imagined the day he told his parents about his sexual orientation, but none of the scenarios had gone quite like this. He can hear the yelling going on downstairs, but he can’t quite make out the words. It goes on for a while, the cacophony, and falls silent after some time unlike the noise in his head.

 

It isn’t until hours later, hours of hiding in his room doing homework out of sheer desperation to avoid his parents, that there’s any sign of confrontation. The knock on his room door seems foreboding, his mom’s voice barely audible through the door. “Come down for dinner in an hour.” And he’s not sure whether time is actually moving slower than he thought humanly possible or it’s an illusion when every time he looks at his phone, it seems like no time has passed at all. _At least I got all my homework done._ But the task seems so miniscule in the grand scheme of things that Zhangjing can’t help but laugh.

 

Walking downstairs feels like a death sentence.

 

It’s uncharacteristically quiet at the table tonight, only the sound of utensils scraping against the bowls, the sound of food being chewed. Zhangjing wonders if his dad has always been such a loud eater or if it’s some sort of new passive aggressive way to express disapproval. Regardless, he is too afraid to look up, staring down at the food in front of him with as much feigned interest as he can muster.

 

“Zhangjing, do you like boys?”

 

His head snaps up so quickly at the sound of his mom’s voice that he’s scared that he’s given himself whiplash. He stammers, trying to get the words out, but they don’t come, and he can distinctly feel his cheeks heating up with embarrassment. The sound of chewing instantly stops, and if the situation wasn’t so unbelievably _tragic_ , Zhangjing would have laughed at the open-mouthed expression mid-bite on his dad’s face. His mom is looking on, waiting patiently for a response from him, one that he’s not sure he knows how to form.

 

“Because it’s okay if you do.”

 

Zhangjing doesn’t know what to say.

 

“I need a moment.” His dad’s voice is rough, shaky, and Zhangjing watches helplessly as his dad stands up and leaves, abandoning his half-finished bowl at the table. He feels the tears welling up in his eyes as his mom reaches out to grab his hand. _Oh no._  “Don’t worry. Your father will come around to the idea.”

 

His mom resumes eating, her chopsticks nimbly picking up a piece of fish from her bowl, her hand still cradling his over the table. And Zhangjing doesn’t have an appetite anymore, the sight of food making his stomach curl uncomfortably, but he lets his mom continue holding his hand, grasping on to her like a lifeline. And the action is strangely comforting, reminding him of the times he held his mom’s hand as a child when walking through crowds, only able to see the glimpse of color in her clothes, the mass of people swallowing her up.

\---

“I think I’m in love.”

 

The unexpected declaration makes Zhangjing pause while sweeping, causing Yanjun who’s crouched down with the dustpan to motion at him impatiently. “Come on, Zhangjing.” He complies, and Yanjun stands up, tipping the last of the debris into the trash can. A few hours ago, Yanjun had texted him to come over, saying he had something to tell Zhangjing, but when he had arrived, the other boy stuck the broom in his hand without a word. So they had spent the past twenty minutes or so in silence, sweeping. Zhangjing doubted that his friend had called him over just to do chores, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that Yanjun would tell him when he was ready.

 

“What, who?” The confusion sets in his face, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Usually he would be the first to notice a new crush from Yanjun, the younger boy having such strong telltale signs.

 

The first sign was always Yanjun checking how he looked in the bathroom mirror at an alarming rate, somehow always dragging Zhangjing into the mix. He would sigh whenever he’d get a text from the other boy in class, insisting in big capital letters that Zhangjing also excuse himself to go to the bathroom. Marking the beginning of his inevitable two weeks of hell. While it didn’t come off as _too_ suspicious to his teachers since they weren’t in all the same classes, Chaoze who w _as_ in the majority of his classes gave him strange looks the last time Yanjun had a crush. _Are you okay?_ The other boy mouthed at him, concerned, during their last class after witnessing Zhangjing get up for his fifth bathroom break of the day. Zhangjing could only shake his head in exasperation at the other boy, mouthing back _Yanjun_. The only thing he got in response was Chaoze’s smirk. And on the way to the bathroom, a simple text - _Way to go! ;)_ – to which he had to furiously explain that _no, he was not sucking off Yanjun in the school bathroom every period._ The whole debacle would always end up with Zhangjing reassuring the younger boy that _yes, Yanjun, you look great as always_ , and with Yanjun taking way too many selfies, making Zhangjing help him choose the perfect one to post to social media.

 

He didn’t have the heart to tell Yanjun that shitty selfies taken in poor lighting in the school bathroom weren’t going to impress anyone.

 

The second sign was him making all his basketball teammates miserable. They were all baffled when Yanjun suddenly became the biggest ball hog, keeping the ball to himself, trying to run through defenders during games with complicated footwork, scoring point after point. And then staring hopefully into the crowd like an expectant puppy wanting for a treat or praise. Zhangjing couldn’t help but cringe when it happened, having attended all of Yanjun’s games to cheer him on, watching the disaster unfold in front of him. It wasn’t as if his team could get _too_ upset either. After all, they would still end up winning their games with Yanjun having the skill to back up his stupidity, but it did rather take a toll on everyone when the younger boy became someone else entirely, the boy willing to pass the ball and let his other teammates shine disappearing up in a puff of smoke. It didn’t help that none of them picked up on the signs the way Zhangjing did, not connecting Yanjun’s strange behavior to his newest infatuation with a girl. So they all remained perplexed when these moments would come and go every so often.

 

And the third sign.

 

Zhangjing _hated_ the third sign.

 

Mostly because it involved him too.

 

Because for those couple of weeks that Yanjun had his crushes, Zhangjing would be forced to live through an increasing number of cold jokes each day. And he swears that by the end of it, their whole friend group wants to murder the younger boy in cold blood, and his throat is so dry and cracked from fake-laughing that even his vocal teacher notices at lessons. The last time it happened, she had yelled at him to drink more water, berating him for not taking care of his voice. But how was he supposed to tell her that the reason his throat hurt was because he needed to laugh all day at his best friend’s terrible jokes? And they came out like a flood that couldn’t be stopped, almost as a nervous habit like the younger boy needed to remind himself of who he was.

 

Yanjun would always keep his crushes to himself, not revealing anything at all while Zhangjing waited for his best friend to let it all out. And the younger boy _would_ eventually tell him, but the announcement always seemed to come too late, Yanjun’s interest in the girl fizzling out quickly. After which, Zhangjing would spend the next week listening to the younger boy bemoan his bad luck in finding his _one true love_.

 

So he is greatly surprised at this news, having not seen any of the signs in the past few weeks. “I feel like you say that every time you get a new crush.” Zhangjing pauses to take a sip of the orange juice that Yanjun slides across the counter for him, perching on a seat at the kitchen island. “And then the next week you completely change your mind.”

 

“That’s not true.” Yanjun glares at him, the straw from his apple juicebox in his mouth completely diminishing the menacing effect that the younger boy is trying to go for. Zhangjing smiles, faintly remembering little Yanjun who used to refuse to drink any flavor other than apple. One time, the younger boy had pitched such a fit during their middle school lunch period that Zhangjing reluctantly spent his allowance at the vending machine for Yanjun, forgoing the chocolate chip cookie he wanted. Yanjun had ended up somehow spilling half the juicebox all over his white shoes, nearly crying as Zhangjing rushed to get napkins.

 

“This time isn’t like all those other times.” Yanjun waves his hand dismissively. “This time it’s _for real_.” The younger boy punctuates his words with a jab of his finger.

 

Zhangjing rolls his eyes, grabbing one of Mrs. Lin’s homemade cookies to munch on, his jaw working on chewing and talking at the same time. “What makes you think it’s real, Yanjun?”

 

The younger boy sputters, pausing to frown and look for the right words. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just know because I _feel_ it.”

 

The snort of disbelief comes out involuntarily.

 

Yanjun gives him a look of indignation. “Don’t laugh, Zhanjing. Just because _you_ haven’t been in love ever. You wouldn’t even know what I’m talking about.” The younger boy frowns, looking at him, and Zhangjing freezes when Yanjun leans closer. “You have crumbs all over your face, Zhangjing.”

 

And all Zhangjing can feel for the rest of the morning is the spot at the corner of his mouth where Yanjun’s thumb had brushed his face, the light ghosting touch of the boy that he can’t get out of his mind. It still feels hot and tingly as Zhangjing listens to the younger boy talk on and on, a streak of warmth where the pad of Yanjun’s thumb pressed against his lower lip slightly, the feeling branded into his skin.

 

_You’re wrong, Lin Yanjun._

_I do know what love feels like._

\---

“Mom! Dad! Hurry up! We’re going to miss it.” Zhangjing motions at his parents impatiently who are trailing behind him. “We’re already late for Yanjun’s game, and you two _promised_ to be there since his parents are out of town.” He grumbles bitterly when his parents share a look, smiling, and continue at the same pace before. “I can’t believe this. If I was coming by myself, I would have been _on time_.” He points at his wrist to emphasize his point.

 

“Slow down, Zhangjing.” His mom reaches up to pat his head. “We’re still a bit early. We’re not going to miss tip-off.”

 

He slows down to match pace with his parents, not willing to spill the information that he doesn’t just want to get there in time for tip-off. Zhangjing sighs heavily thinking about missing the opportunity to watch Yanjun stretch before the game and the perfect sight of the other boy perhaps bending over to try and touch his toes. It had been a goal of the younger boy this year to become more flexible, jealous of the fact that Zhangjing could easily drop down into a split. He was rather proud that he could accomplish a physical feat that the younger boy couldn’t and having the chance to stare at Yanjun’s ass was just the cherry on top.

 

But Zhangjing wipes the thought away from his mind, sneaking a glance at his dad who seems to be in a good mood today. The past few months had been slightly awkward between them, the unexpected revelation throwing their interactions off, and Zhangjing still felt the need to tiptoe around his dad, unsure of where they were with each other. But last week, his dad had surprised him while watching tv together, his mom sitting in between them. It had been one of those historical dramas, full of palace conspiracies and tangled love-lines. He was startled when his dad suddenly pointed to the screen, voice gruff. “He’s really attractive, isn’t he? More so than the lead.” Zhangjing readily agreed, bobbing his head quickly at the second male lead that had appeared on screen, and his dad smiled, ever so slightly, pleased. He could feel the lump forming in his throat at the effort, his mom squeezing his hand reassuringly.

 

_He’s trying._

And thinking about it again makes the feeling of tears prick the back of eyes. “Are you okay?” His mom is looking at him with concern, his dad’s face enveloped in alarm. Zhangjing sniffles, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes quickly to ward off the tears. “I’m fine, just thinking about how I’m _so upset_ that we’re going to be late.” He laughs at his parents’ shocked expressions, yelling out as he paces himself into a run across the parking lot, heading towards the gym. “I’m going to go ahead and find us seats!”

 

Tip-off is just about to start when Zhangjing makes his way into the bleachers, finding a free spot near the top. Yanjun is scanning the crowd with his eyes, looking upwards to find someone. _Me._ He waves so that the other boy can see him, knowing that Yanjun likes to know that he’s there. _You’re my lucky charm._ Yanjun had declared last year, insisting that the only games he ever lost were ones where Zhangjing didn’t show up. _So you better show up to all my games next year so we can win the championship._ And so far this year, their school has been undefeated, with the younger boy sweeping him up into a soul-crushing hug after every victory.

 

Zhangjing hasn’t missed a game yet.

 

Yanjun smiles upon spotting him, a big one that deepens his dimples enough that Zhangjing can see them even from far away. _Auntie? Uncle?_ Yanjun mouths at him, and he shoots the younger boy two thumbs up, indicating that they’re on their way, pointing at his parents who are making their way up to where Zhangjing is.

The game is electrifying.

 

Zhangjing always marvels at how Yanjun seems to hang in the air when shooting a basket, suspended almost in a moment of grace, his arms coming up in a quick and fluid motion each time. Yanjun had tried to teach Zhangjing a few summers ago, claiming that he needed a shooting partner over break so that he didn’t get rusty. And Zhangjing had stood there nervously as the younger boy came up behind him, Yanjun’s arms reaching around him to adjust his shooting pose, his hands laying over his on the ball to steady it. But he could only focus on how small his hand seemed to be, Yanjun’s hand dwarfing his, the younger boy’s fingers resting in between his on the ball, leaving Zhangjing to wonder what it would feel like if Yanjun would only close his hand, intertwining their fingers.

 

Needless to say, Zhangjing did not become the shooting partner Yanjun had hoped for, instead relegated to being the ball boy, running around picking up the basketball to return to Yanjun as he practiced his catch-and-shoot. And they would stay for hours on end, until the sun started dipping too low in the horizon, casting long shadows on the court, their outlines larger than life on the concrete, the whole scene painted in deep oranges and reds. Until the moment Yanjun finally felt satisfied, collapsing into a heap on the ground while Zhangjing handed him water, watching the younger boy gulp it down as he wiped away the sweat with a towel.

 

Zhangjing always feels the pride well up in his chest as he watches Yanjun score, knowing all the long nights and effort the younger boy puts in, and today is no different, his throat scratchy from the amount of constant cheering. The younger boy turns to flash him a smile after yet another basket, mouthing _my lucky charm_ , and Zhangjing feels his heartbeat quicken, his chest tightening uncomfortably at the attention, wishing, hoping.

 

And he is still thinking about Yanjun mouthing those words at him when it happens.

 

Yanjun goes up into the air for another basket, graceful and lithe and perfect, and then he’s coming down, down to earth just like every time. But no, a look of uncharacteristic alarm crosses the younger boy’s face, and that’s all that Zhangjing sees, all that he can think about as he feels his stomach drop, and his body is reacting even before he can think about what to do next, his legs taking him down the steps, his arms pushing people away to make room. And he’s running, running towards his best friend who somehow isn’t invincible anymore, his ankle giving way from underneath him.

 

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow-motion.

 

He can’t tell whether it’s him screaming or the other people around him, but Yanjun is clutching at his ankle, his face scrunched up in pain, and all Zhangjing knows is that it looks swollen and pink, too pink. The same shade of pink as Yanjun’s perfect lips except when Zhangjing looks at his friend’s face, his lips are bloodless, his face drained of color, his eyes wide with pain, the tears welling up. He hasn’t seen Yanjun cry in years, and the shock of it all is so much that he doesn’t even realize his mom is shaking his shoulder, telling him that they’re taking Yanjun to the hospital, not waiting for an ambulance. And his dad sweeps up Yanjun in his arms, carrying him out to the car, the car that seems a million miles away, as Zhangjing follows.

 

_Yanjun seems so much smaller than I thought._

Zhangjing doesn’t know what to say except to repeat _you’re okay, you’re okay_ over and over again, sweeping the younger boy’s hair off his forehead, Yanjun’s head in his lap as he’s lying down in the backseat of their car. And the younger boy has stopped crying now, but the whimpers of pain hurt him worse than the tears ever could, not knowing how to deal with Yanjun so small and wounded instead of larger than life.

 

_You’re okay, you’re okay._

They take him away as soon as they arrive, and Zhangjing doesn’t know what to do with himself, wringing his hands nervously as they wait in the living room. He can’t understand how his parents are so calm when he’s ready to crawl out of his skin, the nervous energy forcing him out of the seat to pace back and forth, staring anxiously at the clock on the wall. After a while, his dad gives up on telling him to sit back down. The second hand taunts him, and Zhangjing hears the tick-tick-tick in his head as if counting down to a certain doom.

 

The doctor finally comes out to fetch them, and Zhangjing makes his way with his parents past all the other beds, the countless number of rooms until they get to where Yanjun is. The younger boy grimaces as they walk in, and Zhangjing stops in his tracks upon seeing the cast, a bright and obnoxious yellow. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re going to say.” Yanjun looks forlornly at his foot. “There weren’t any better options.”

 

Yanjun still looks a little peaky and pale, but Zhangjing notes with relief that the younger boy at least has enough energy to joke around. His best friend’s face brightens into a truly big _stupidly_ blinding smile. “Hey, this is great. Now everyone’s going to want to sign my cast at school, and I’ll be even more popular.” And the whole thing is so ludicrous that Zhangjing feels the tears starting to fall, the stress of the last couple of hours finally taking their toll. He drapes himself over Yanjun embarrassingly, his legs feeling like jelly, the younger boy grunting at the sudden weight.

 

“Oh my god, Zhangjing, it’s _okay._ I mean, it’s not the best because now I need to sit out the rest of basketball season, but I didn’t _die_ or anything.” Yanjun begins to pat his head, and the feeling of the younger boy smoothing his hair just makes him cry harder. “Zhangjing, stop crying. You’re supposed to be my lucky charm, remember? Lucky charms aren’t this negative.”

 

His head shoots up in an instant, a fierce glare pointed at Yanjun, his hand wiping at the tears smeared all over his face. “Stop joking, Lin Yanjun. I was really scared, okay?”

 

And the younger boy just laughs, the sound of happiness filling the room, as Zhangjing punches him lightly in the arm through his tears, the sound of protests from Yanjun at hitting _a poor injured boy_ and Zhangjing’s sharp voice berating the other boy to _be more careful next time_ filling the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> CC: [@loststickienote](https://curiouscat.me/loststickienote)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Chinese New Years everyone!!! I'm so excited to have been a part of this fandom for this long. :) This is probably my favorite chapter that I've written so far. SORRY, I'M SO LATE. ;) I love Zhangjun so much even though they're a #deadship. -sobs- My schedule has been wonky recently, so it's up in the air for when the next chapter will come out unfortunately.
> 
> In other news, the Zhangjing fic fest will be starting on 2/14 officially! Associated Twitter/CC accounts with info will open up around 2/11. ♡ Hope to see people participate, whether it be as writers, prompters, or readers. :) 
> 
> Shameless plug for all my other works~~
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

Zhangjing wakes up to the sound of buzzing from his phone, the sign of an incoming text. He groans and blinks rapidly in confusion, the darkness of his room only interrupted by the moonlight streaming through the window, the shadow of the trees outside painted on the wall. He swears as his clumsy fingers grab at his phone awkwardly, causing it to fall on the ground. Zhangjing runs his hand on the ground, the carpet soft against his outstretched palm, until he finally feels the edge of his phone.

 

_What the fuck?_

The bright white numbers stare up at him mockingly, a huge 1:34 on his phone screen, bright against his phone background, a selfie of him and Yanjun from last year after one of Yanjun’s basketball game wins. And the notification bubble of a text from his best friend glaring up at him. _Ugh, Yanjun. This can definitely wait until tomorrow._ He had spent the entire night studying for his upcoming exam, desperate to cram as many chemistry concepts into his head as he can. But as he drifts back off into his dream of winning unlimited hotpot for life, the successive notifications go off again, like little gunshots determined to keep him awake.

 

_Not today, Yanjun, not today._

Zhangjing puts his phone on silent, a prayer of thanks for his mom who still comes around to shake him awake each morning before leaving for work if he doesn’t show up for breakfast. And he finally falls asleep, the image of perfectly cooked meat dancing in his head. _Ting._ And he’s slurping up the soup from the hotpot, the hot broth warming his insides. _Ting._ And now there’s the sound of the bell, ringing in the distance as he eats. _Ting._ Wait, what bell? There shouldn’t be a bell in his dream. _Ting._

 

He opens his eyes groggily again, staring at his phone which remains oddly silent even though he could have sworn he heard his notifications go off again. Zhangjing whips around his head to locate the sound as it happens again, just in time to see it. _What the hell._ He makes his way over to the window, carefully stepping around the papers in messy piles around his desk, the evidence of his past week of studying.

 

_Am I dreaming?_

Yanjun is standing outside his window, peering up with another pebble in his hand, dressed in jeans and a white sweater, his face half-illuminated by the moon.

 

_I have got to be dreaming._

But he still waves back meekly as dream Yanjun spots him and waves, a wide grin splitting his face, motioning at Zhangjing to open the window. And even though Zhangjing knows it’s insane because of course he is _dreaming_ , he still opens the window anyways, the sudden gust of chilly air making him shiver, as he watches dream Yanjun start shimmying up the drain pipe to get to his window. Funny how he can’t seem to say no to Yanjun even in his dreams.

 

Dream Yanjun makes progress quickly, and Zhangjing can’t remember the last time the younger boy had snuck away to his house late at night so they could stay up late and play video games or have impromptu sleepovers. Their escapades had always ended up with Yanjun being grounded the next morning, the inevitable phone call to Zhangjing’s mom as Yanjun sat at their kitchen table scarfing down breakfast with his family. In truth, he wished the younger boy would stop, feeling guilty about Yanjun being punished so often. But Yanjun had declared that he _had to_ sneak over or else when would they have time to hang out in the midst of his basketball practices, their school work, and Zhangjing’s vocal lessons? _Besides, you’re too much of a rule follower to sneak out to my house, so I’ll just come to you._ And that had been the end of the conversation.

 

Zhangjing gets a shock when dream Yanjun tumbles into his arms from the window, making him lose his balance and fall on the floor with the other boy on top of him in a heap. “God, Zhangjing, it took you long enough. Didn’t you get my texts? I must have sent at least fifty of them.” And he wants desperately to respond, but he’s still in disbelief that Yanjun, _Yanjun_ , is in his house right now sprawled out over him, very heavy, very real, and decidedly _not_ a dream. Not to mention, he can feel the younger boy’s warm breath against his cheek, his words coming out in a tumble. “I was freezing outside.” And a shiver runs through him as Yanjun whines pitifully into his ear.

 

“Oh sorry.” The younger boy springs up quickly, reaching out a hand for Zhangjing to grab. “You’re shivering. I’m probably ice cold to you.”

 

He numbly accepts the other boy’s hand and watches as Yanjun fumbles around in the dark to turn on the light at his bedside table. The bright light flooding the room suddenly makes him wince, his eyes blinded. But when he opens them, Yanjun is standing in front of him like a teenage dream in an oversized white sweater with a hint of blue at the cuffs, ripped blue jeans, and his favorite Converse hightops.

 

A million questions are running through Zhangjing’s head.

 

_Am I still dreaming?_

_What are you doing here?_

_Did you really just come and throw pebbles at my window like some scene out of a cheesy high school rom com?_

_And then just climb in through my bedroom window?_

He settles on the second question, the one that seems the most harmless, his voice croaking unattractively. “What are you doing—” And his voice becomes a screech on the word _here_ as Yanjun suddenly grabs the bottom edge of his white sweater and pulls it right over his head, leaving the younger boy standing half-naked in front of him.

 

In his bedroom.

 

At an ungodly hour of the night.

 

Zhangjing isn’t sure whether he wants to melt into the floor, scream, or hide his entirely face behind his hands of which he is sure is turning bright red at this point. Or maybe all three at the same time. “Oh my god, keep it down.” Yanjun hisses at him, his arms crossed over his bare chest, hunched over slightly. “I assume you don’t want me in your bed with my dirty clothes on. Do you have an extra set of pajamas?” Zhangjing points mutely at the bottom drawer of his dresser, not trusting himself to open his mouth and say words. The younger boy crosses his room in a few strides, digging his second set of pajamas out of the drawer, and suddenly Yanjun starts laughing uncontrollably, his hands clutching at his sides. The younger boy is still gasping for breath when he speaks, the words being drawn out of him painfully. “I can’t believe you still have these. Aren’t these from middle school?” And he points at the little white bunnies on the pajamas, still not able to suppress his giggles.

 

The laughing draws him out of his trance, his retort indignant and quick. “They still fit me, so what’s the problem?”

 

Yanjun grins at him. “Oh yeah, I forgot, you haven’t grown any taller since then.”

 

The younger boy just barely avoids him as he runs over intending to push Yanjun down, but he catches the other boy quickly with not enough space in the room to evade for too long. Zhangjing crows triumphantly, pushing Yanjun at the same time the younger boy grabs at his wrist. The wind is knocked out of him as he falls, landing awkwardly half on top of Yanjun over his bed. And suddenly, he realizes just how bad of an idea this is, his hand brushing the younger boy’s abs, his face pressed into Yanjun’s shoulder.

 

“Ugh, get off for a minute, Zhangjing, I’m freezing.”

 

The moment is broken, and Zhangjing scrambles off of his best friend. He doesn’t know whether to stare or turn away as Yanjun kicks off his shoes and socks, unbuttons the top of his jeans, and shimmies out of them. He ends up doing a mixture of both, and Zhangjing feels the flush starting at the base of his neck. _Yanjun’s boxers are blue._ But in a few short minutes, the younger boy is dressed in his pajamas, and now it’s Zhangjing’s turn to dissolve into helpless giggles. The clothes are clearly too short to fit the taller boy, his wrists and ankles showing comically as Zhangjing looks on.

 

“Shut up.” Yanjun scowls at him, crossing his arms, causing the top to ride up flashing him a peek at the other boy’s abs.

 

That shuts him up real quick.

 

“Let’s sleep. I’m exhausted. And cold.” Zhangjing moves over, letting the younger boy slide into bed next to him, turning off the light so that they’re bathed in darkness. And even though he knows that Yanjun is already half-asleep, he needs to know, the question burning on the tip of his tongue.

 

“But really, Yanjun, what are you doing here?” He asks hesitantly.

 

All he can see in the dark are the younger boy’s eyes, wide and shiny, and maybe the slope of Yanjun’s nose if he peers hard enough, the other boy’s face just inches away. And Zhangjing doesn’t even want to breath, doesn’t want to break the illusion just in case he _is_ still dreaming. _If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up._ His breath hitches as Yanjun moves even closer, the younger boy’s nose bumping his in the dark, and Yanjun’s voice is laced with sleepiness when he responds, mumbling. “Remember that girl I said I was in love with? I finally asked her out, and we had our first date today.”

 

Yanjun’s voice trails off, and Zhangjing nudges his friend insistently. “And then what?”

 

The younger boy’s eyes flutter open again. “You know what my parents think about dating. They only want me to do school and basketball. So I told them I was coming over here to study with you, Zhangjing.”

 

He asks the next question anyways, knowing that he’s going to hate himself for it in the morning.

 

“So do you like her?”

 

The expressive sigh tells Zhangjing everything he needs to know, and it already hurts so much, his chest tightening up, but Yanjun keeps talking anyway. “Yeah, her name is Aojuan, and I think she’s my first true love. You know how they always talk about how first loves are supposed to be in movies and stuff? She’s exactly like that, and I’ve never felt so happy in my entire life, Zhangjing.” Yanjun lets out another sigh, and Zhangjing wonders if it’s possible for him to still be living when he can’t breathe. And he can feel the incoming tears so he shifts in the bed, turning so that his back is to Yanjun. His voice comes out shaky and small, and Zhangjing hopes the other boy doesn’t notice. “Good night, Yanjun.”

 

But the instant he’s not facing Yanjun, his body starts shaking uncontrollably as if reacting on its own to the news that _Yanjun loves someone else_. And he knows it makes no sense, knows that Yanjun was never really his to keep anyways. But even though his heads knows, the rest of him doesn’t, the clawing feeling of dread and hopelessness settling in his belly, threatening to consume him. The feeling intensifies even further as the other boy’s arm snakes around his waist, pulling him closer, his body flush up against Yanjun’s, the younger boy mumbling sleepily into his ear. “Are you cold, Zhangjing? Come closer.”

 

And it’s a moment he’s dreamed about often, being wrapped up in Yanjun’s arms. _But not like this._ Zhangjing simultaneously wants to settle into the younger boy’s embrace and push Yanjun away at the same time, but all he can do is stay still, as still as a statue, unmoving, unfeeling, until he hears Yanjun’s breathing deepen into a show rhythm before letting the tears stream silently down his face, his heart threatening to burst open from feeling too much for a boy that would never be his.

 

He spends the rest of the night wide awake, the sleep refusing to come, the thoughts in his head spinning a web of despair.

\---

“You look like shit.” Zhangjing glares at his best friend who is throwing on his clothes from last night as if it’s a perfectly normal morning.

 

_Nothing about this is normal._

“And who’s fault is that?” Zhangjing throws back, rubbing his eyes. “Maybe the idiot who decided to wake me up at two in the fucking morning?” He had woken up uneasily early in the morning, the sun just beginning to rise, his eyes feeling gritty with last night’s tears still, the sleep finally coming after a few hours of lying awake listening to Yanjun breathe. The younger boy had moved away from him at some point during the night, turning around in the bed, and Zhangjing had let out a sigh of relief. _Thank god I woke up early._ He had switched the alarms on his phone back on and moved as far as possible to the edge of the bed without falling off. He really couldn’t afford to wake up in the morning with Yanjun still spooning him from behind, a formula for disaster. The next thing he knew, the younger boy was shaking him awake, the sound of his phone going off.

 

_Not nearly enough sleep._

The yawn rips through him inadvertently, and Yanjun taps his foot impatiently, motioning for Zhangjing to get up and get dressed. The younger boy looks just as good in daylight as he did last night, the whole outfit screaming boyfriend material, and Zhangjing feels the jealousy rise up at this girl he hasn’t even met yet, Yanjun’s perfect first love that got to experience having Yanjun take her out on a date. The whole thing seems rather unfair, right down to the part where the younger boy didn’t give even a second thought to climbing into his bed in the middle of the night.

 

Because they are just friends.

 

Zhangjing’s stomach hurts.

 

“Do you want me to wait for you or can I go down and eat first?” Yanjun makes a face at him. “I’m starving, and your mom is, like, the best cook.”

 

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be down in a minute.”

 

Ten minutes later and he’s still staring at his closet full of clothes, indecisive. Zhangjing tries to tell himself that _it doesn’t matter_ , but it does. It _does_ matter when Yanjun can wake up early and still look like he’s stepped off the cover of a magazine. It matters because the younger boy has finally met his first love, and Zhangjing feels the threat of competition closing in on him, the idea of someone else taking his place beside Yanjun scaring him out of his wits. And he can hear the younger boy in his head, reassuring him that it won’t ever happen. But who knows? No one is _irreplaceable._ So Zhangjing scans his clothes, looking for something cute to wear for a good first impression in the morning. His gaze rests on one of his hoodies, a light baby blue. The color reminds him of last night, reminds him of the dark blue of Yanjun’s boxers, bringing the flush to his cheeks.

 

_Blue it is._

When Zhangjing arrives downstairs, Yanjun is chatting away, his mouth opening wide as he chews, talking to his mom at the kitchen table. It reminds him of all the times when they were younger, Yanjun always choosing to eat breakfast with his family in the morning. _It’s nice how you always have meals together._ And Zhangjing understood, the other boy’s house often empty whenever he visited, meals neatly packed in their fridge with a note on the counter. “…and then I ended up scoring anyway.” The younger boy pauses mid-chew when Zhangjing walks in, his mouth gaping. “Ew, Yanjun. Close your mouth.” He takes a seat next to Yanjun, helping himself to breakfast.

 

He flinches with surprise when he feels the other boy’s hand brush the back of his neck. “Is this new? I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

 

And the momentary touch makes his speech come out messily, unnecessarily awkward pauses in between words. “Y-yeah. I…got i-it…last w-week.”

 

Yanjun gives him another long look, the stare making his cheeks heat up, and Zhangjing prays that he’s not as red as he feels. Finally, the younger boy speaks, his voice authoritative and loud. “It looks good, cute.” Any hope of holding back his blush disappear out the window, and he just barely manages to stammer out a thank you. Even worse, his mom is staring at the two of them from across the table, and Zhangjing can _see_ the exact moment of recognition, her eyes widening slightly, her gaze shifting back and forth in between him and Yanjun. _Oh no._ His stomach sinks as the smile spreads across her face, and he tries to give her his best pleading look without being too obvious. _Please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything._ And he’s screaming it in his head, as if just repeating it can help him will her silence into existence.

 

“So Yanjun, are you dating anyone right now?”

 

“Nope.”

 

_Liar._

But Zhangjing forgives his friend instantly, knowing that regardless of his parents’ willingness to let the younger boy constantly stay over, anything said to his mom would inevitably make its way back to Yanjun’s house. _There are some things better left unsaid._ He breathes a sigh of relief, his mom’s line of questioning not nearly as bad as he had imagined in his head, and he picks up his glass for a sip of water to calm himself.

 

“Did you sleep with Zhangjing last night?”

 

Zhangjing spits out his water, the droplets spraying the table.

 

And he’s hacking up a lung, coughing and trying to simultaneously catch a breath as the other boy pounds on his back with concern. “Oh my god, Zhangjing, are you okay?” Zhangjing waves his hand and forms the ok sign with his thumb and index finger, squeezing out a few choked off words of reassurance.

 

It’s a few moments before he finally feels like he can breathe again, and when he looks up, his mom is looking at him mischievously, continuing to eat as if nothing had happened. _Oh my god._ When he turns, Yanjun’s face swims into view, a look of mild alarm, the other boy’s eyebrows knit together forming a wrinkle in the middle. Even his dad glances over, putting down the morning newspaper to survey the situation. “You really choked badly there, didn’t you?” He nods mutely back at the younger boy who gives him one last pat on the back before stuffing his face with more food.

 

_You always chew with your mouth open._

“But yeah, I sleep in Zhangjing’s bed last night. I…uhh…forgot bring my sleeping bag.” Yanjun gives him a look, his eyes widened nervously, to which Zhangjing rolls his eyes. _Relax._ “Just like when we were little.”

 

_But we’re not so little anymore._

And his mom nods at him pensively, an unreadable expression on her face. “Well, Yanjun, you know you’re welcome here any time you want, though…” She raises an eyebrow at the younger boy. “…it _would_ be nice if I didn’t get a call from your parents last night asking if you had finished all your homework and eaten dinner already.”

 

Uh oh, busted.

 

His mom shakes her head in exasperation and raises a finger in warning. “ _One time_ , Lin Yanjun, just this one time I will let this slide by, no questions asked. But next time, you’re in trouble.”

 

 _At least Yanjun isn’t shameless._ The younger boy looks down meekly, a chagrined look on his face, his hands clutched tightly together in his lap. “I’m sorry, Auntie.”

 

And he can’t think of anything else for the rest of the day except Yanjun standing there looking up at him like a perfect dream outside his window, the moonlight just glancing off his face as if it too is afraid to get too close. The way the sweater is a bit too large for Yanjun, the sleeves hiding his hands underneath like a secret waiting to be revealed. And those ripped jeans, the bruise on the younger boy’s knee that Zhangjing can spot all the way from the window, no bigger than the size of a thumbprint carelessly pressed into Yanjun’s skin, a mishap from last week’s basketball practice. All the way down to his well-traversed Converse high tops, the younger boy refusing to get a new pair even though the left sole is almost worn through. It’s a snapshot in his memory, a wonderfully vivid snapshot that he’s not sure he wants to remember, the slight upturn at the corner of Yanjun’s mouth so sharp and flawless that he’s afraid the other boy’s smile will cut his heart into a million pieces.

\---

“Why are you so annoying today, Yanjun?” Zhangjing frowns down at the huge 78% written in red at the top of his chemistry exam, sighing with annoyance as the younger boy continues to poke him in the arm incessantly. _That chem test._ He bemoans the situation in his head, the whole incident with Yanjun distracting him for the rest of the day, all the chemistry concepts he had learned flying out of his head as soon as he sat down for the exam. He had handed in his paper regretfully, knowing that he hadn’t done his best. _Not even close._

 

“Stop it, Yanjun.” The irritation at his best friend rises up, slapping away the younger boy’s hand from poking him yet again. His voice is heated, and he wants to take it back when he sees Yanjun’s hurt expression, the younger boy’s eyes downcast. Zhangjing forces himself to calm down, his voice even. “Sorry, I’m just having a rough day. I didn’t do great on my chem test.”

 

Yanjun peers at his exam paper. “A 78%? That’s unusual for you. Chem is one of your better subjects. What happened?”

 

He forces a smile on to his face, injecting his voice with fake cheer. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll just do better on the next one.” _You happened._ Zhangjing stuffs the paper into his backpack hastily. _Out of sight, out of mind._ “So what did you want?”

 

The younger boy responds excitedly, his words stumbling over each other coming out. “I want to know if I can come to your vocal lesson after school.”

 

His head ducked down on his desk, his words come out as a mumble. “Why do you want to come?” Zhangjing can only see a sliver of the younger boy’s face through his crossed arms, Yanjun’s finger in front of his lips in a ‘hush’ motion. “It’s a secret. You’ll have to wait to find out.”

 

Zhangjing gives in with a sigh. “Okay, but only if you stop being annoying for the rest of the day.”

 

“Deal.”

 

He doesn’t know why he feels nervous. _Maybe I should have told my vocal teacher first that Yanjun was coming._ The uneasiness stays with him as they trudge up the stairs to the studio, Yanjun following him faithfully. His vocal teacher had already said that the younger boy was welcome anytime after she had found out Yanjun helped him with rearranging his solo. But it still feels weird to have the other boy follow him up towards his own little hidden-away world, the trip feeling much more personal and intimate than he would have liked. _Maybe this was a bad idea._ He can feel his hands becoming clammy, breaking out into a cold sweat, the nervousness making him dizzy. It’s not like Yanjun has never seen him sing before. In fact, the other boy is probably the one person in the world that has seen him sing the _most_ , and Yanjun’s eyes often watch him intensely as he practices as if the younger boy is trying to soak up everything about the moment, sometimes making Zhangjing wonder if the other boy even breathes as he sits there still as a statue. But those moments take place in Yanjun’s bedroom, the walls a comforting blue, the bed worn but sturdy, the place where they carved their names underneath into the wood when they were little grooved and familiar against his fingertips as he practices in front of his best friend. Today feels entirely different, leading Yanjun to a different part of him that he’s not used to putting on display. _Too late to turn back now._

 

They enter the studio, and Zhangjing waves at the receptionist as they head to the back, past the numerous practice rooms until they reach the right door. He can feel Yanjun behind him even if he doesn’t dare turn around to look, and Zhangjing takes a deep breath before knocking and entering.

 

“Lao shi, this is Yanjun.” The words come out in a rush as his vocal teacher looks up in surprise from where she’s sitting at the piano.

 

“Nice to meet you, Yanjun.” She smiles widely. “Are you the friend that helped Zhangjing with his solo?”

 

Yanjun nods eagerly and looks at Zhangjing questioningly, his head cocked to the side, words unspoken. He nods back at his friend, knowing that the younger boy is about to burst at the seams with the desire to talk. _I wonder what the secret is._ The other boy fumbles his words, his hands reaching into his backpack to pull out a few sheets of slightly crumpled paper. “I…started writing a song, actually. And I wanted to run it by someone.”

 

Zhangjing’s eyes go wide in surprise as he watches the younger boy straightens out the paper, handing it over to his vocal teacher. “It’s called <Waiting for the Entire Winter>.” Yanjun waits silently as his teacher looks it over, and Zhangjing waits with bated breath.

 

She begins tapping out a few bars at the piano, the notes making his heart ache with a melancholy he hasn’t felt before, a sad longing for something real, something inexpressible. And then it hits him. The song is just _Yanjun_. Waiting for the other boy to finish classes at the front of the school, his fingers red and frost-bitten as he tries to breathe life back into them, his hands cupped around his mouth. Ducking his head down in embarrassment when Yanjun ruffles his hair, a fond habit and leftover artifact from when they were kids that hasn’t died yet. Protesting profusely when Yanjun wraps the scarf around his neck, bluffing that he just doesn’t feel the cold as much as Zhangjing. The thought is so poignant and sad that Zhangjing feels the lump well up in his throat just thinking about it.

 

His teacher’s voice rips him away from his thoughts. “How about you two sing it together? I haven’t heard you sing Yanjun, but it will be good to hear you both so that I can see where you’re at.”

 

Yanjun casts him an uneasy look, and Zhangjing forces himself to nod back enthusiastically, brushing off the unformed thoughts in his head. “Let’s do it.”

 

His vocal teacher starts playing again, handing Zhangjing the sheet of paper with the lyrics, Yanjun shaking his head and tapping his temple lightly. _Oh, he already has it memorized._ Zhangjing stares down at the first few lines on the table, his head snapping up just in time to see his vocal teacher cue them.

 

_Waiting for the entire winter,_

Yanjun’s singing voice is softer than he thought it would be, a thin but clear sound in contrast to his richer, warm tone, the younger boy’s voice weaving tightly with his, filling in all the gaps Zhangjing doesn’t know existed.

_But you didn’t appear._

The younger boy stares at him as he sings, his gaze sharp and piercing as if he can see Zhangjing’s most well-kept secret, buried so deep that it can’t come out no matter how much Zhangjing wants it to.

_And right now, it’s still snowing._

That one time Yanjun came over early in the morning after it had snowed all night, ringing his doorbell and waking him up. And when he had opened the door, Yanjun was standing outside in his obnoxiously colored snow boots next to a pitifully small snowman complete with dark black pebbled mouth and eyes, a carrot nose, and two stick arms. And they had spent the rest of the afternoon in a long extended snowball fight until they were both chilled to the bone.

_Waiting for the entire winter,_

Spending every day during break with the other boy, waiting on his front step at the crack of dawn, riding his bike as fast as possible, the wind whipping the rosiness into his cheeks, the chill into his fingers locked tightly around the handlebars. Being greeted with a steaming cup of hot cocoa, Yanjun insisting on draping him in an oversized blanket as he warms up in the younger boy’s kitchen.

_Yet I’m still missing_

Yanjun is more at ease now, the nervousness in his voice diminishing to a nothingness, his voice moving forward with each little flick of his wrist as his long, delicate fingers keep time, a mesmerizing movement for Zhangjing to watch. And the younger boy smiles at him, a smile that turns the ache in his chest into a sharpness that takes his breath away, digs deep into him until he can’t feel anything else.

_Having you by my side._

 

It kills him when Yanjun reaches out to grab his hand, his best friend’s happiness at sharing his self-composed song so palpable and big and present that it threatens to overwhelm him. Their last note together quivers gently in the air, not knowing when to fall, not knowing when to break the moment.

 

Zhangjing wonders if he’ll ever escape the winter that is Yanjun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> CC: [@loststickienote](https://curiouscat.me/loststickienote)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for being so inactive and not updating sooner. Unfortunately, I won't be able to predict when the next chapter will be completed, so thank you readers for your patience. T.T
> 
> Shameless plug for all my other works~~
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

“So when are we going to meet this girlfriend of yours?” Chaoze takes a chomp out of the sandwich on the plate next to him on the ground, swatting Dinghao’s hand away as the other boy tries to take a bite. “Go make your own.”

 

“Just give me some of yours.”

 

“No.”

 

Dinghao rolls his eyes so hard Zhangjing swears they’re about to fall out of his head. “ _Fine._ ” He snaps his fingers together with a click. “Honglin, can you go make me a sandwich?”

 

“Uh, in your dreams, Dinghao.”

 

Dinghao goes around the room of boys in desperation and out of pure laziness before his sights set on Maotong, the youngest in the room, only present by virtue of being dragged along by Ruotian and Jingzuo. “ _Maotong_ ,” And Dinghao’s voice is full of such saccharine sweetness that Zhangjing can visibly see the alarm on the poor boy’s face. “Can _you_ go make me a sandwich?”

 

Maotong’s face pales, and his voice comes out in a squeak. “Yes?”

 

“Oh my god, thank you so much. I love you.” And now it’s Zhangjing’s turn to roll his eyes as Dinghao talks, the other boy acting dramatically as if Maotong has saved his life from pure and utter torment.

 

“You can find everything in the fridge. There’s bread in the pantry.” Yanjun calls out the youngest.

 

Zhangjing swats Dinghao over the head, the other boy with his back leaning up against the front of the couch that he and Yanjun are lazing on. “Stop bullying the youngest one, Dinghao. Does it feel good to be picking on middle schoolers?” The other boy rubs the back of his head, glaring up at him. “Well maybe if _someone_ let me take a bite of his sandwich, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Dinghao replies, pointedly, and even though Chaoze has his back to them, Zhangjing knows with absolute certainty that the other boy is also rolling his eyes.

 

“There wouldn’t _be_ a mess if you didn’t constantly make one.” Yanjun is not as kind as he is, and Dinghao cries out for mercy when the older boy tugs his hair sharply in warning.

 

“Can you all shut up back there?” Zhixie complains. “You’re being too loud for me to concentrate. Can’t we play Super Smash Bros. in peace without Dinghao starting an argument _every_ time?” The older boy swears as Routian kills him off another time, his character respawning. “I swear I don’t know why we’re friends with you.”

 

Dinghao makes a noise, a cross between a disapproving sniff and a snort of derision. “Because I _of course_ am the best thing to happen to most of you, and you all should be grateful to be in my presence.”

 

“As if.” Chaoze shoots back, crowing with excitement as he kills off Jingzuo, finally killing off the only remaining player left. “I win. Per usual.” He waves his controller in the air motioning at the rest of the room. “Who wants to play next? Honglin?” The exchange is interrupted as Maotong scurries back into the room, a sandwich on a plate, handing the food off to Dinghao, who utters a murmur of satisfaction as he chows down. “This is great, Maotong. Best sandwich ever.” Dinghao shoots a glare at the rest of the room that everyone ignores. “At least _someone_ loves me.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right. We don’t love you.” Dinghao lets out an offended snort at Yanjun’s flippant words.

 

“ _Anyways_ ,” Chaoze interjects again. “When are we meeting your girlfriend. It’s been a whole three weeks, and we still don’t even know who she is.” He pauses, munching on some chips. “That’s really impressive. To be honest, usually after three whole weeks, you’d be broken up already.”

 

The shorter boy deftly avoids the throw pillow that Yanjun attempts to throw at his head. “Maybe this is why I don’t want you guys to meet her. You all will just scare her off, and she’ll think I don’t have any normal friends.”

 

“Just don’t introduce her to Dinghao.” The murmur of agreement rolls through the room, and Zhangjing laughs as the sulky expression appears on Dinghao’s face.

 

“Maybe I’ll bring her to the Winter Formal.” Yanjun raises a threatening eyebrow when the rest of the room starts making a ruckus. “ _If_ everyone behaves themselves.”

 

“But then we won’t get to meet her.” Maotong’s voice pipes up, the disappointment on his face evident. “We can’t go to your Winter Formal.”

 

Yanjun thinks for a moment. “We can have a get-together before the dance at my house, and you all can meet her then.” The younger boy nudges him, eyes twinkling conspiratorially. “Never mind me though. How about you? Anyone you’re thinking of bringing?”

 

And Zhangjing doesn’t know whether he should look at Yanjun or somewhere else, afraid that all his feelings are too apparent on his face, his heart pounding hard enough that he can hear it, a twisting feeling in his stomach as the younger boy stares at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chaoze, the other boy casting a knowing look in his direction, his gaze sliding shiftily back and forth between him and Yanjun. He sends up a silent prayer that nobody else in the room notices how obvious Chaoze is being, but he doesn’t need to worry because a sudden cheer goes up as Honglin wins the round, the rest of the room distracted by the game. “Of course not. He’s coming with me. Right, Zhangjing?”

 

He nods helplessly, mouthing a thanks to Chaoze as Yanjun turns to look at the other boy. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, we didn’t have dates, so we decided we’re going to show up together.”

 

“Oh, okay. Still going to come to my house beforehand?”

 

Chaoze murmurs his assent, grabbing the controller away from a fed-up Zhixie.

 

“Well, good. I’m excited for my girlfriend to finally meet my best friend, Zhangjing.” And he wants to look away so badly, seeing the adoration on Yanjun’s face, the sparkling in the younger boy’s eyes for someone else, but he can’t do it. Because Yanjun is so goddamn genuinely _excited_ for him to meet this girl that he loves. Because Zhangjing is his best friend. And Zhangjing can’t bear to let the younger boy down for even a second, the fake smile plastered to his face as he nods, the irony heating his cheeks.

\---

Yanjun crows in excitement when Zhangjing comes over, opening the front door with a huge and unnecessary flourish. The younger boy had texted him earlier to visit, stating that he had a surprise, refusing to say anything further. After making sure that the younger boy wasn’t plotting something outrageous, he had reluctantly agreed, grabbing his backpack with all his homework as an afterthought. _Maybe I’ll get a chance to finish my work._

 

He should have known better.

 

“What are you doing?” He asks warily, watching as the younger boy brings out a six-pack of beer, a bottle of wine, and god-knows-what-else.

 

“My parents are away for the week, and I finally figured out where the key was to the liquor cabinet.” Yanjun pops open two cans of beer. “And we’re going to drink to that.”

 

“I have homework to do.”

 

“Maybe the alcohol will make you think better.”

 

“That’s not how alcohol works, Yanjun.”

 

“Yeah, well, you don’t know. You’ve never tried it.”

 

The other boy is giddy with happiness and shoves the beer into his hand, and Zhangjing is hit by the smell of alcohol on Yanjun’s breath as he gets close. “Did you already start without me?”

 

“Maaaaaaybe.” Yanjun replies in a sing-song voice, and Zhangjing rolls his eyes at seeing his best friend whirling around the kitchen in what looks to be a dance to music only Yanjun can hear. “Aren’t you _curious_?” And Zhangjing has to admit that he is, wanting to get a taste of what Yanjun might be feeling, the younger boy looking so carefree and charming as he comes full circle and tugs Zhangjing into a spin, making him laugh out loud. “Okay, fine, fine, Yanjun. You win.”

 

His best friend squeals in delight, the racket making him wince, as he pops open the first can of beer. Two drinks in, and Zhanjing feels _good_. As a matter of fact, he feels on top of the world, like he can do anything right now and succeed. _Even confess to Yanjun._ He giggles as he watches the younger boy screaming the lyrics to some godawful pop song at the top of his lungs, a fluffy green blanket tied off around his neck like a cape, using a water bottle as a make-shift microphone to sing into, bouncing around the room excitedly. And he can’t help but sing along too when Yanjun points the water bottle in his direction, motioning at him to join. So he gets up off the couch to sing with his best friend, twirling around and around until he can’t tell whether he’s spinning or the room is, with Yanjun’s laughter being the only thing he can hear ringing in his ears.

 

“I hate you, Yanjun.” Zhangjing frowns at the half-empty bowl of popcorn sitting in his lap, the other boy sprawled out on the couch, taking up too much room, his cheek pressed again his fist, his arm propping up his head to watch the movie, periodically resting his head on Zhangjing’s thigh. He is sitting cross-legged, squished into the corner, and Zhangjing has spent half the time sneaking glances at Yanjun rather than paying attention to the movie, the glow from the television screen casting the other boy’s face in an attractive light. “You always put way too much butter in the popcorn. It’s like a puddle of oil in the bottom half of the bowl.”

 

He glares critically at his best friend who scrambles into a sitting position in order to peer into the bowl. “It’s not that bad.”

 

“Yes it _is_. Look at this mess.” Zhangjing insists, swiping a finger into the bottom of the bowl to make a point, triumphantly showing off the oily mess he manages to gather as proof.

 

The other boy grins at him, unimpressed. “What’s the big deal? It’s just butter.”

 

“The big deal is that it’s gross, Yanjun.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Yes, it really-“

 

Zhangjing lets out the gasp involuntarily, Yanjun’s grip on his wrist is firm and encircles him tightly like a pair of handcuffs binding him to the younger boy, making Zhangjing unable to pull away even if he tried. But it is wetness that surprises him, the other boy’s mouth closing around his finger that was held out in accusation, Yanjun’s tongue curling around his finger slickly, lips soft against his skin in the briefest yet longest moment Zhangjing has ever experienced. And he’s not sure whether it’s the alcohol making it seem like forever or it’s just his own mind playing tricks on him, but all he can see are Yanjun’s eyes blinking at him from behind his long lashes, everything happening at an impossibly slow pace. _Is this what being drunk feels like?_

Yanjun’s voice snaps him out of it, gleeful. “See? Just butter.”

 

The moment is broken, leaving him wide-eyed and gaping in disbelief at his misfortune of being in love with a boy that is so _dense_ , and Zhangjing isn’t sure whether he should be over the moon with joy or wallowing in self-pity at the fact that Yanjun seems completely unaffected while his heartbeat is pounding so loudly in his ears that he can’t even hear the other boy speak. “Zhangjing, are you okay?”

 

The words come out before he can stop them, a mix of wonderment and surprise. “I think I’m in love with you.” And as soon as he says it, he wishes he can take it back, grabbing desperately at the words floating in the air between them before Yanjun can hear, before Yanjun can _understand._

He freezes when the other boy replies. “I love you too.”

 

And suddenly the noise in his head stops, a moment of silence where he doesn’t dare to even breathe for fear that he’s imagining things. Of course, he’s imagined this moment in his head so many times, picturing how sweet Yanjun’s confession would be, slightly shy and a bit embarrassing because the other boy would _of course_ throw in some stupid jokes, and how he’d melt as Yanjun looked at him. And the other boy is in fact looking at him with earnest wide eyes, his mouth spun into a lopsided smile, the way Yanjun gets when he’s trying not to let his happiness burst through, complaining that his mouth opens too wide when he laughs. Zhangjing can feel the melting, can actually feel himself softening into putty the instant Yanjun brings up both hands to pinch his cheeks gently, the warmth spreading over his face where the other boy’s fingers are splayed over his skin.

 

_Yanjun._

“You’re like the moon and the stars hanging up in the sky.” Yanjun continues, brightly, the mirth dancing in his eyes. “Like the sun that rises up in the morning into a sky of reds and oranges.” The other boy giggles, tilting his head to the side, the last few words slurring together. Zhangjing feels his heart sink, the pinch from Yanjun’s fingers instead turning into a sharp pinprick of pain as the smile is wiped from his face. “Like the flower that blooms after a soft rainfall.” And Yanjun is full-on laughing now, his head thrown back, his whole body shaking.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t even realize he is crying until Yanjun peers at him, concerned, the other boy’s thumbs coming up to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Hey, Zhangjing, are you okay?” Yanjun breaks out into a small, nervous grin. “Did my confession feel so touching that you’re actually crying?”

 

And he knows now that Yanjun is joking, knows that it isn’t real, but he can’t stop crying anyways, the tears refusing to stop, streaming silently down his face.

 

He takes a shaky breath before attempting words. “Yanjun, you’re the worst. Absolutely the worst confession ever. 1/10. So bad that it made me cry.”

 

Yanjun’s face rearranges into a smile, and Zhangjing can visibly see the relief written all over the other boy’s face. “Sounds like I need to work on my delivery.”

 

“Yes.” He speaks slowly to stop the quivering that he can feel creeping into his words. “The delivery, that’s the problem.”

 

_Yes, that’s it._

 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the alcohol burning his throat going down as he downs another shot or if it’s just the thought of Yanjun.

 

A few hours later and everything is funnier than it should be. Because he’s sitting in Yanjun’s house watching romance movies, cuddling under the blankets on the couch, and even got confessed to. It’s so funny that he wants to laugh until he cries. _Yes, how funny._ So he laughs, laughs until his sides hurt, and all he’s left with is the sharp pain digging into him like a knife being twisted in just a little bit further every time Yanjun smiles back.

 

“Zhangjing, Zhangjing.” Yanjun grabs his wrist, and suddenly, the room is spinning. No, wait, it’s him that’s stopped spinning. And Zhangjing works hard to keep down the nauseated feeling that’s churning in his stomach, blinking fast and hard as if that’ll bring Yanjun’s face into focus, the other boy blurry in his vision. “You need to go home. Your parents are going to be worried.”

 

“Yes, yes, home.” He tries to walk towards the kitchen to pick up his things so he can leave for a place where he isn’t reminded of his own stupidity every where he turns. _I have enough of that in my head._ But a sharp pain makes him cry out as he catches the corner of the coffee table, the jolt running up his leg. He looks down and feels the dizziness coming on when he sees the bright red. _Blood._ Zhangjing hates the sight of blood, needing to have Yanjun hold his hand last year when they donated for the blood drive at school. The younger boy had pestered him into it, insisting that it was a good cause, forcefully dragging an unwilling Zhangjing along. In the end, he had given in, squeezing Yanjun’s hand so hard that the other boy complained for the rest of the day, looking away the entire time, focusing on Yanjun’s mouth spewing silly distractions, not hearing a word being said.

 

“Zhangjing, don’t look.” Yanjun’s hand covers his eyes, and he instinctively turns away from the sight, hearing the sound of the younger boy rifling through the first aid kit for bandaids. And then there’s a soft pressure, the feeling of Yanjun’s fingers on his skin stinging more than the scrape itself. “I’m taking you home. No objections.”

 

It’s the firmness in the younger boy’s voice that makes him feel tired all of a sudden, too weary to resist the force of nature that is Yanjun.

 

Everything feels like a blur as he follows the other boy outside, only the feeling of Yanjun’s hand anchoring him down, the bright blue of his backpack slung over the younger boy’s shoulder guiding him forward like a beacon of light in the midst of darkness. “Come, Zhangjing. You can come back tomorrow to grab your bike.” And he obediently sits behind the other boy, letting Yanjun loop his backpack straps over his arms. “Hold on tight, okay? Zhangjing?” He tightens his arms around Yanjun’s waist in response, clasping his hands together tightly, his nails digging into his skin in an attempt to ward of the nausea that starts as soon as they chill of the night air hits.

 

He tells himself that it’s only to steady himself as Yanjun starts pedaling, but Zhangjing knows it’s not true, knows that if he was given the choice, he would selfishly cling on to Yanjun forever, his cheek pressed tightly against the other boy’s back, hard enough to leave a mark from the pattern of Yanjun’s sweater.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t want to ever let go.

 

All he sees is the back of his eyelids, too nauseated to open his eyes as the wind whips through his hair, burning his cheeks with nippy air, and he presses his face further into Yanjun’s back. _Warm._ His mind flashes back to Yanjun’s truly godawful confession joke, and the thought almost makes him start crying again. And Zhangjing squeezes, squeezes his arms around Yanjun as tightly as he can because maybe he wants the other boy to know how he feels all the time, having the air sucked out of him even just being in Yanjun’s presence. He used to think it was a good thing, breathless from overwhelming love for the younger boy, but now Zhangjing is starting to think maybe he’s just choking from inevitable disappointment.

 

He still doesn’t want to let go.

 

“Zhangjing, we’re home.”

 

_Home._

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

 

Zhangjing obediently gets on as Yanjun crouches in front of him, motioning at Zhangjing. “You’ll never make it up the stairs. Let me piggyback you.” Yanjun grunts as he picks him up, and Zhangjing squeals in surprise as the younger boy almost loses his grip. “Don’t you dare drop me, Lin Yanjun.”

 

“I would never.”

 

And once again, Zhangjing finds himself with his cheek pressed against the back of the boy he loves, Yanjun’s hands cupping the back of his thighs steadily as the younger boy slowly walks up to the front door. If it wasn’t so tragically ironic, tonight would have been the best night of his life. Spending hours with Yanjun watching romantic comedies, getting confessed to, being piggybacked up to his room. But the whole thing is a farce, and Zhangjing feels like a fool. The words come out before he can stop them. “I bet you’d be a really good boyfriend, Yanjun.”

 

They reach the door, and Zhangjing reaches out to press the doorbell, unclasping his arms from around the younger boy’s shoulders. “I think so? At least I haven’t heard any complaints from Aojuan yet.” Yanjun laughs.

 

_Aojuan, his girlfriend._

Before he can start feeling bad for himself, the door swings open, revealing Zhangjing’s parents, his mom with an unreadable expression on her face. “Hello, Auntie, I brought Zhangjing back.” Zhangjing stifles his laughter, pressing his face into the younger boy’s shoulder, hearing the nervousness in Yanjun’s voice, imagining the look on his best friend’s face. There was only one time that his mom had gotten truly angry at Yanjun, when the two of them had been fooling around when they were little. Yanjun had managed to sucker him into climbing a tree, teasing him for being too scared to do it, and he had gotten stuck just a little too high up. Zhangjing can still remember how much he had cried, clutching the branch and holding on for dear life with Yanjun panicking on the ground beneath him. Eventually, the younger boy had given up, relenting and running back inside to get his parents. He didn’t stop crying the entire time, standing next to Yanjun, with the younger boy squeezing his right hand while he rubbed the tears that wouldn’t stop with his left as his mom gave them the worst tongue lashing he had ever had.

 

It was the only time Zhangjing had seen Yanjun scared of his mom.

 

The laughter dies in his throat as soon as his mom directs a full-blown glare at him, her eyebrows raised in anger and disbelief. “You Zhangjing. Are you drunk?”

 

“N-no.” The few beats of silence seemingly last an eternity. “…y-yes.”

 

“Yanjun, do your parents know about this?”

 

“No, Auntie.”

 

“I will talk to them about this later.”

 

“Yes, Auntie.”

 

“Honey, stop being so angry. It’s just a few drinks.”

 

“Yeah, Mom. It’s just a few drinks.” The words slip out unexpectedly chipper.

 

“You Zhangjing!” His mom points an angry finger at him, jabbing at the air to emphasize each word. “I. Will. Deal. With. You. Later.” Zhangjing winces at the sharp tone, choosing to instead focus on his dad’s sympathetic smile. “Yanjun, why don’t you bring Zhangjing upstairs? Honey, how about you calm down for a bit and lecture Zhangjing tomorrow instead. Come on.”

 

And Zhangjing hears his parent’s voices fade into the background as Yanjun starts the long trudge up the stairs to his bedroom, only the sound of the younger boy’s breathing and an occasional grunt filling his ears. Zhangjing presses his cheek gratefully against the other boy’s back again, letting the feeling of Yanjun engulf him, and he can almost pretend that Yanjun is his boyfriend, carrying him to bed after a night out of drinking, taking care of him after he gets drunk. Yanjun would be the type to help him into bed first, getting him into his pajamas before bringing him water and tucking him in. _I just know it._ And the thought makes him drunken with giddiness, makes his heart swell in his chest so much that he’s afraid it’ll burst.

 

All too soon, they’re at the door to his room, and Zhangjing finds himself suddenly being deposited unceremoniously on his bed, his limbs tangled in a heap as Yanjun dumps him backwards awkwardly. “Zhangjing, I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” The whispered words sound more intimate than they should, and Zhangjing can barely make out the younger boy’s face in the dark. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your mom.” Yanjun slips silently out of his room like a shadow, and he’s gone, gone, gone.

 

Leaving Zhangjing running his fingers back and forth over his cheek as he falls asleep, the imprint of Yanjun’s sweater the only thing left to remember.

 

But that too would be gone in the morning.

\---

“What’s _wrong_ with you?”

 

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with me.” Zhangjing replies grumpily, tugging in frustration at the bowtie around his neck, staring into the mirror in concentration as he tries to tie it again for the fourth time. “Stop acting like it’s such a crime to have a stupid crush.”

 

“It’s not _just_ a stupid crush.” Chaoze states dramatically, throwing a pillow at him which he barely avoids. “Why did you have to choose Yanjun for your once-in-a-lifetime-forever-love? Mark my words, this isn’t going to be some epic romance, it’s going to end as a dramatic tragedy.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“He has a _girl_ friend, Zhangjing.” Chaoze pops another chip into his mouth. “And not that I thought you forgot, but maybe you need to be reminded that you are, in fact, not a girl.”

 

Zhangjing whips his head around to glare at his supposed-friend. “Can you just stop being an asshole right now? We’re going to be late.”

 

His friend lets out a deep sigh. “And who’s fault is that? You’re the one who’s taking _forever_ to get ready.” Zhangjing feels Chaoze’s hands at his neck readjusting his bowtie, the apology on his face evident in the mirror. Chaoze’s tone softens with caring. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, Zhangjing.”

 

“I know.” The tears in his eyes well up right on cue as Chaoze wraps him up in a backhug, warm and comforting.

 

“Now let’s go rock this thing.”

 

The feelings of nervousness only start when he presses the doorbell to Yanjun’s place, and Zhangjing tugs at his sleeves to calm himself, his fingers playing with the bit of starched white peeking out from under his black jacket that suddenly feels way too big for him. “Stop fidgeting, Zhangjing.” Chaoze hisses, grabbing his hand to stop him. “You look great so stop worrying.”

 

_I’m not worrying._

Okay, maybe a little bit.

 

The smile feels too wide and fake plastered on his face when the door swings open to reveal Yanjun, and Zhangjing feels the breath being knocked out of him, his best friend in a sleek light grey suit, the blazer thrown half on over a white dress shirt, a sharp contrast to the black he chose to go with. Yanjun is still struggling to get his other arm into the blazer, his styled hair flopping into his eyes as he tilts his head, and Zhangjing feels awkward suddenly, like he’s just a little kid playing dress-up when Yanjun looks so _grown-up_ even though his best friend is a year younger. He reaches out automatically to help Yanjun fix his blazer, the other boy still the same little boy that followed him around and needed help to get his raincoat on when they were small. Even though it never helped, both of them inevitably getting soaked after going puddle jumping. But before he can, another hand grabs Yanjun’s shoulder first, the sound of a light laugh coming from behind his best friend. “Yanjun, you’re so clumsy.” And the sleeve slips on easily, the face of cheerful and pretty girl appearing.

 

“You must be Aojuan.” Chaoze sticks his hand out for the girl to shake. Zhangjing feels like he’s on autopilot as Yanjun talks, the words feeling like they’re coming from a far away place, completely missing the introduction. He can’t stop himself from staring. _Yanjun’s girlfriend has a pretty smile._ The girl is dressed in a white dress, all lacy and flowery, the bottom flowing out to graze the tops of her knees, the long sleeves a perfect white looped around Yanjun’s arm. “And you must be Zhangjing.” And the girl turns towards him, the smile still on her face. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chaoze smirking but ignores the urge to glare at the other boy. Yanjun beams at him, and Zhangjing attempts a weak smile as his girlfriend grasps his hand in both of hers, the warmth giving him a small shock.

 

He wants desperately to hate her.

 

But her smile is genuine, and the guilt gnaws at his insides.

 

“Come in.” Yanjun says excitedly. “Everyone is already here.”

 

The next half hour passes in a blur, and Zhangjing just nods dumbly when each of their friends come up to hug him, Zhixie, Maotong, Jingzuo, Ruotian, Honglin, Dinghao, everyone’s faces passing by in a blur. All he can see is Yanjun’s side profile, his head thrown back in laughter at something amusing, his girlfriend beside him clutching his arm, his periodic fond looks downwards at her, his lips at the edges curled up into a small smile.

 

_They look like they could be a couple._

No, they _are_ a couple.

 

Zhangjing corrects himself, wanting to scream for hoping otherwise. He’s so busy trying to banish the negative thoughts about Aojuan that he doesn’t notice Chaoze slide into the seat next to him. “What do you think?”

 

_I hate her._

“She’s nice.”

 

“She is.” Chaoze pauses, gazing at him as he takes another sip of his drink. “Kind of hard to hate her, isn’t it?”

 

“Stop.”

 

“Maybe _you_ should stop. Yanjun’s wondering whether he did something to upset you.” Chaoze picks his next words carefully, delicately. “He was pretty excited about his _best friend_ meeting his girlfriend for the first time.”

 

Zhangjing knows Chaoze doesn’t mean it like that, but the shame washes through him anyways, a flood of guilt for being so goddamn _petty_. So he forces it, the smile that he needs to keep on for Yanjun’s sake, the sound of his fake laugh at his best friend’s dumb jokes sounding tinny in his ears, joining the group of people across the room, smiling at Aojuan like his life depends on it. And the relief he sees written across Yanjun’s face just deepens the shame burning him up on the inside.

 

“Pictures, I want pictures.” Yanjun’s mom interrupts the flurry of conversation, her voice trilling an octave higher than it needs too. “I need pictures of my _baobei_.” Yanjun grimaces as his mom pinches his cheek, leaving a red mark on the younger boy’s skin, the action making Zhangjing crack a smile, his first real one of the night. But it quickly disappears as he sees the two of them, Yanjun and Aojuan, posing on the stairs, his best friend’s arm around her waist and pulling her close, his smile strikingly bright, and Zhangjing wonders if he could ever make Yanjun smile like that.

 

“Zhangjing, Zhangjing. Your turn. I want some of you boys together too.”

 

And he tries to protest, tries to stop Yanjun’s mom from pushing him towards Yanjun, but when he looks up, Yanjun is holding his hand out for him, the light from the foyer’s chandelier making little lights dance across the other boy’s hair as he smiles down at him. He reaches up to accept the other boy’s hand numbly. Yanjun’s fingers are colder than he expected, and he finds himself being squished up against the other boy’s side, his best friend looping his arm around his waist. “Smile Zhangjing! And get closer!” He almost loses his balance as Yanjun pulls him in, and the other boy lets out a quiet _whoa, steady_ , tightening the grip around his waist. Zhangjing can’t tell if it’s almost slipping or Yanjun’s proximity that is making him feel like he has palpitations, his heart skipping and beating uncomfortably fast.

 

“Relax, Zhangjing.” Zhangjing doesn’t dare look up at Yanjun just in case he does something stupid. _Like burst into tears. Or kiss him._ The urge to kiss the other boy seizes him abruptly, his heartbeat increasing even more than he thought possible. The whisper brushes against his ear, sending a jolt through him. “I’m really glad you’re here, Zhangjing. You’re not mad at me, are you? Chaoze said you weren’t, but I wasn’t really sure.” Zhangjing wants desperately to wipe away the unsteadiness in the younger boy’s voice.

 

“No.”

 

_Not you, never you._

 

“You know I love you, right? You’re like my _ge_ , like family.”

 

_Please, don’t._

 

The uncertainty creeps back into Yanjun’s voice. “You like Aojuan, right?”

 

“Yes, she’s nice.”

 

The lie feels like sand in his mouth, gritty and wrong. Zhangjing wishes he could lie to himself just as easily as he lies to Yanjun. Because maybe then he wouldn’t be standing next to his best friend taking photos feeling like complete and utter shit, as if they mean something more to each other.

 

“Thanks, Zhangjing.”

 

Zhangjing hopes he remembered to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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